Reflections
by stephell
Summary: A series of seemingly unrelated events combine to show Martin that the past is never truly gone Will the team be able to prevent history from repeating? Silvia your support and friendship is greatly appreciated R&R Chapter 10 is up. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**(Disclaimer: I don't own WAT or any of the characters or any of the companies to do with above. I am not consulted by the show or any of the people involved in the show – even though at times I wish that I were. This is a completely fictional piece of work. All of the place names are real, none of the people bear any resemblance to anyone I know of in real life.)**

**Hope you enjoy**

**PROLOGUE:**

He opened the door to his apartment and set his bags just inside on the floor. Turning, he closed the door, locked it, flicked on the light and hung his keys up. After the mechanics of arriving home were complete, he leaned back against the door, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening his eyes he took in the sight of the apartment he had left a week ago. The air smelled a little stale. Despite the crisp late winter air outside he'd let a little in to freshen the place up. Otherwise, the only indication that his apartment had been empty for a week was the stack of mail, correction; stacks of mail Sam had collected and brought in for him each day. Looking at the stacks that covered his table he grimaced, definitely not tonight.

Thirty minutes later, showered, changed, bags unpacked he grabbed a glass of juice from the fridge, at least that hadn't gone bad yet and sat down on his couch. Exhaustion etched every line of his face. He stretched his legs out in front of him and closed his eyes as he tried to grasp all that had happened in the past week, or more to the point, what hadn't happened and now would never happen.

The evening shadows moved across the room slowly as time wore on. The figure on the couch didn't move, lost in his silent reflection of conversations had, those not had, conversations imagined and planned but now would never be. This silent, internal soliloquy was interrupted by the shrilling jangle of the phone. Deciding that he wasn't up for another sympathetic message, another, "I'm so sorry, If there's anything I can do," he opted to let the machine pick it up.

After five rings the answering machine clicked on, "Hi, you've reached Martin. Sorry I'm not available. Leave a message, and I'll call you as soon as I'm able. Have a good day." The requisite tone sounded and then there was silence for about three seconds then the voice began: "Martin…Martin…Marty, Marty, Marty Martin. I know you're there. I know you're home. If home is where the heart is, then where do you go? Where there's no heart, there's no home. I'm coming for you. I'm coming soon."

Click. The answering machine dutifully recorded the message unaware if it was from friend or foe and not caring in the least. Martin didn't move. He continued his frozen position on the couch. It wasn't that he didn't hear the message. It wasn't that the message particularly frightened him. It was more that he was beyond caring…

**CHAPTER 1:**

"Morning Martin."

"Morning, Elena."

"Martin, welcome back. We've missed you."

"Thanks, Viv. I appreciate that. I didn't get a chance to thank you and Marcus for making the trip that meant a lot to me."

"We wanted to be there, wanted you to know we were thinking of you."

Nodding again he made his way to his desk. Wading through the stacks of emails, phone calls and additional well wishers and sympathy expressions he failed to note the arrival of Jack, Sam and Danny. Seeing him thoroughly engrossed in catching up on his back log they in turn let him be until Jack appeared folder in hand and called the team to order.

"Lynn Benway, age 32, mother of two, left her house yesterday evening to go to her part-time job as a medical records transcriptionist. She hasn't been seen or heard from since.

Viv, Elena, I need you to go and interview the family. Danny and I are going to go to the hospital to interview her co-workers. Sam, Martin, I need you to get going on the phone, financial records and her address book, start calling her friends and get them in here for interviews."

With that, Jack, Danny, Vivian and Elena headed out, leaving Sam and Martin in the office to begin the search through the records.

**7:00 p.m. MPU Office**

After nine hours Lynn Benway had been found. Nothing spectacular, no great mystery; just the victim of a random mugging gone awry. The streets and parking lots around St. Vincent's Hospital were known for frequent attacks and this time it had been Lynn Benway. Unfortunately for her, her family and co-workers this story ended in tragedy. She was found in a dumpster, her throat slit, her watch, wedding ring, and $27.00 dollars and credit card were stolen.

The quick closure of the case was no comfort to the family who had lost a mother and wife. For the team, all that remained was the business of closing up the case and heading home.

"Martin, wait a minute." Danny jogged a few steps to catch up to Martin who was just entering the elevator.

"I…just wanted to say that it's good to have you back."

"Thanks, Danny. It's good to be back…I always think that sounds so dumb when people say that, but the truth is, after awhile, you just want to find normal again."

"Yeah, whatever that is. Anyway, I…I'm glad you're back."

"Thanks…" 

"Hey, hold the elevator, please." Sam rushed up, gave Danny a quick smile good night and stepped in as Martin held the door.

"See you tomorrow."

The doors closed and the elevator started down. Both Sam and Martin stood in silence as the elevator clicked off the flights until it reached the garage. Once there, Martin walked Sam to her car before turning toward his.

"Hey, Martin."

"Sam, thanks for getting the mail and collecting all of it. I appreciate that."

"Yeah, I wish I could have done more. I…you'll call me if you need anything?"

"Yeah…I'm not using if that's what you're worried about."

"I didn't think you were, but yeah, I'd be a fool if I didn't think the stress might be a factor."

"You're not a fool, Sam. I'm sorry. I'm just really tired. I just want to get home and get some sleep."

Sighing Sam sat in the driver's seat of her car and watched as Martin walked away.

**8:00 p.m. Martin's Apartment (outside)**

Martin was juggling a bag of groceries, dry cleaning, his briefcase, the mail and the keys to his apartment when his cell phone rang.

"Damn," Martin uttered as his keys, mail and briefcase hit the floor while he tried to slip his cell phone from his coat pocket.

"Hello," Martin spoke through his gritted teeth as they were being employed to grip the hangers of his dry cleaning having run out of hands and shoulders to carry all the items.

"Martin, it's Jack."

"Hey, hang on a second, let me get inside and put stuff down."

Back at the MPU office Malone sat behind his desk and continued jotting notes in a folder while listening to the muffled sounds coming through the speaker phone of Martin unlocking his apartment and opening the door. The sound of rustling paper bespoke the settling of whatever the 'stuff' was that Martin needed to put down. 

"Sorry 'bout that, caught me just as I was getting home and trying to carry too much at one time."

"Yeah, I know the feeling. Listen, we have a meeting with Van Doren in the morning about…"

Jack stopped speaking as he heard the sound of Martin's startled exclamation coming through the phone. He jumped slightly at the clattering of Martin's cell phone hitting what was likely the floor and then the distinctive sounds of struggling, crashing and fighting collided together and reached his ears via the speakerphone.

"Martin! Martin! What's going on!"

His shouts were met with nothing but the continued crashing, and he was certain he could hear strangled sounds of someone trying to breathe. Jack's mind imagined the worst as it created a scenario of someone strangling Martin.

Keeping his office line open he grabbed his cell, dialed 911, identified himself and got confirmation of all available units being sent to Martin's address to respond to a federal agent in need, assault in progress.

Torn between wanting to run out of the office and head immediately to Martin's and not wanting to leave the tangible link to his agent, he stayed where he was frustrated at only hearing the sounds of someone being strangled and not being able to do anything more.

After what seemed like an hour but in reality was less than three minutes he heard a different sound in the background. Another voice sounded across the telephone speaker. Jack wasn't able to make out the words, but he heard shouting, more crashing and then footsteps thudding close by and then fading away. All was silent except for the struggled gasps for air of someone Jack was certain, was Martin.

"Martin! Martin! Is there anyone there? Somebody talk to me!"

"Hello…hold on…let me find a light…Oh my God, Mr. Fitzgerald, are you all right? What happened, who was that?"

"Pick up the phone!" Jack was beyond angry now and cursed that he had called Martin on his office phone and not his cell, but he was loath to cut the connection.

"Hello, who is this?"

"This is Jack Malone, I'm Martin's boss. Who is this?"

"I – I'm one of the maintenance guys here. I was fixing some of the hall lights, and I heard a commotion, and I came down to check it out and –"

"I've got police and rescue on their way there right now. How is Martin; is he hurt? Can you give him the phone?"

"Here, Mr. Fitzgerald, it's your boss."

"Jack."

Jack winced as he heard Martin's damaged throat constrict around his name. 

"Martin, I've got police and rescue on their way. I'm on my way. I'll be right there."

When nothing but the rasping for air met his ears, Jack grabbed his coat, keys and cell and ran from the office.

**8:30 p.m. Martin's apartment**

Jack parked haphazardly behind all the other emergency personnel that were arrayed outside Martin's building. He flashed his ID and ran up the stairs. On the drive over he had called Vivian since she lived the closest, and he wasn't surprised to see her entering Martin's apartment just in front of him.

Inside he stopped short. There was a bag of some groceries just inside the room, milk and orange juice mixing on the floor while, ridiculously, a dozen eggs sat neatly in their container, lid flipped opened, not one smashed. Continuing to take in the scene Jack saw dry cleaning bags in a crumpled pile, apartment keys dropped on a side table at the entrance, Martin's briefcase half under the sofa peeking out from the back. On the floor was the shattered remnants of a lamp and the glass in a couple of photographs were smashed on the wall where bodies had evidently hit hard in the struggle Jack had heard.

Continuing through the apartment Jack stopped at the table just before the kitchen and saw the piles of mail neatly sorted. Several large piles of what could only be sympathy cards lay unopened and Jack shook his head sadly at the losses recently inflicted upon Martin and now this. He stopped his musing as he heard Vivian's soft voice speak Martin's name with deep concern. He resumed his pace and entered the kitchen in time to see the paramedics beginning to close up their cases.

Martin sat in a chair with an ice pack on the side of his face that didn't fully cover the bruising that was rapidly developing from his left eye down to his lip. He had butterfly stitches on a cut over the same eye, there was blood on the collar and front of his once white shirt that was also torn but what shook Jack fully was the swelling and redness at Martin's throat. He walked straight to his agent, squatted down next to him and peered intently at his throat. After staring for several seconds he raised his eyes and met Martin's square on. Someone had taken a wire and tried to throttle him. Judging from the bruising, blood and depth of the impression, they had come awful close.

"We'd like to take him in for further treatment, but he's refusing to come." One of the paramedics was speaking to Vivian, perhaps hoping she would be able to persuade the obviously injured and shocky man to rethink his original refusal.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you." The words were little more than breathy whispers as the area around Martin's throat was damaged but Jack and Vivian heard the stubborn will behind them.

"We'll take it from here. Thank you very much for your assistance. I'll make sure he sees his doctor in the morning." Vivian's tone brooked no resistance. She was not only a federal agent but a mother as well and she fully intended to make certain Martin saw his physician. She locked her eyes with his and waited until his acquiesced. Satisfied she grabbed a chair and sat down.

**11:00 p.m. Martin's apartment**

Sighing with relief, Martin closed and locked his apartment door finally alone. He crunched through the broken glass of the lamp and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower to clean off the day's grime and steam some tension out of aching muscles was in order.

On the other side of the door Jack nodded at the agents assigned to the detail of guarding Martin for the rest of the night and walked down the hall. He flipped open his cell phone and sent a quick message. He arranged for the message to be delivered at 5:30 a.m. He knew Paula Van Doren was an early riser and the delivery should reach her before the first news account did, at least he hoped so. He wanted to brief her about this event before anyone else did, and he wanted her briefed before their meeting with Martin.

As he reached the front entrance he noted how calm and neat everything appeared and out front of the building he realized that none of the chaos remained of his arrival a couple of hours ago except for the crooked parking of his car with his hazards still flashing.

Jack had sent Vivian home about an hour after her arrival. She left only after extracting another promise from Martin that he would, indeed, see his doctor. Jack stayed through the giving of the police reports and watched as the forensic team fingerprinted the entrance way of the apartment. Martin hadn't seen much of his attacker as he had been hit from behind and the attacker had been behind him while attempting to strangle him. He was able to give a general build based on his impressions, and he was fairly certain the man had been masked.

The maintenance man, Martin's rescuer, confirmed that the man had been dressed head to toe in black, a ski mask covered his face allowing only his eyes to peak through, fingerprints were lifted but no one believed anything out of the ordinary would be found.

Jack had arranged for agents to guard Martin's door all night and, after he assured the Captain who had responded to the scene that Martin would come to the station the next day and give a formal statement and reminding Martin of his 8:00 o'clock appointment with Van Doren and himself, he left. Twisting Martin's arm into taking the rest of tomorrow off would come in the morning when Sam, Danny and Elena were there along with Viv to ensure that there was enough support to keep Martin out of the office.

Climbing into his car he headed for his own home and a few hours of sleep. The rest of the team would be upset that they hadn't been notified immediately but that would wait until the morning. He needed some sleep.

Martin needed sleep also but found it difficult. After he showered, he fixed a cup of tea and put some honey in it that seemed to go down his throat all right. He swept up the ruined lamp and took the pictures off the wall and gingerly extracted the glass from the frames. Setting them to the side to be finished later he glanced again at the stacks of cards and decided he was just too tired. Putting the empty mug in the dishwasher he crawled into bed, flipped off the light and closed his eyes to sleep.

Sleep did come but it was not the quiet, deep, restful sleep he needed. Instead his mind churned with disturbing flashes of a dark road, bright lights of an 18-wheeler and the screech of brakes, crashing and ripping of metal, horrible screams and through it all he heard a disturbing and disembodied voice call to him "Marty, Marty."

Lunging from the tangled bed covers Martin's hand went to his throat as he gasped for air. He was certain he was being choked again. His hand hit the light and he took in his room. He was alone, no one was there. Gasping for air and trying to shake off the disquieting dreams he looked at the clock, 2:00 a.m.

Knowing that sleep was not going to come he got up from bed, grabbed a glass of water and headed to the living room. Grabbing a handful of mail from the table on his way he sat down and began opening the cards.

He looked at the first one and gulped as he realized just how hard this was going to be.

"In Sympathy" the cover was simple enough. Opening the first card he saw that it was blank, good, he hated the platitudes that were inside canned cards. Instead there was a handwritten note.

"**_Martin, I'm so sorry to hear about the death of your mother and father. I worked with your father for many years and my wife and I had the pleasure of knowing your parents both in a business and social setting as we all shared similar interests. I know how proud your father was of your accomplishments in the FBI and of you as a man, and Carol and I are so sorry that you have lost them both in such a tragic accident. We feel an even deeper remorse knowing that they were driving on that road that night heading to a weekend getaway based on our recommendation of the place. _**

**_I wish I had more words to say how badly we feel for you and for the loss in our lives as well. I know it is trite, but Carol and I truly want you to know that if there is anything you ever need or if you ever want to hear some stories of your dad and mom, we hope you will contact us. We'd love to share our memories of your parents with you._**

_**Our best wishes and sincere sympathy, **_

_**Charles and Carol Goodwin"**_

Martin blinked back the tears that filled his eyes as he finished the first card. This was going to be just as hard as he had imagined perhaps harder. Setting that card aside he reached for another; opened it and began to read.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

For Disclaimers etc. please go to the Prologue.

**CHAPTER 2:**

**7:00 a.m. MPU **

Martin set his briefcase on his desk and rubbed his hand carefully over his face. The bruising on the left side was readily noticeable to all. He set down his second 20 oz cup of coffee and flicked on his computer. He stared at it as it booted up and lost himself in thought. In all he had read about two dozen cards; some were canned sympathy cards, Hallmark at their supposed best most, however, were handwritten notes. The cards came from people that his father and mother worked and or associated with. They all spoke of a happy couple who loved each other, worked together, were passionate in their focus whether it was work, the arts, charities, golf and whatever. They all said the same thing, his father was proud of him. Martin shook his head bitterly. His father wasn't proud of him, he was disappointed in him. That was what he had seen in his father's eyes, heard in his tone and more to the point, heard come from his father's mouth the last time they had spoken.

"Martin, you've disappointed me. I'm ashamed" And with that, his father had turned and walked away never looking back. A few days later Martin had received the call. His parents were dead; killed in a head-on collision with an 18-wheeler on a Virginia road. Apparently they had been headed to a weekend away at a ritzy bed-n-breakfast in horse country. His mother was passionate about antiquing and his father enjoyed the history that Virginia was famous for, and they had planned this getaway.

The next week had been a blur as Martin went through the mechanics of arranging a funeral, calling hours, meeting with the police and the medical examiner. The bodies had been horribly damaged. All the safety features, and tank-like build of a Mercedes had done nothing to lesson the impact of a head-on collision with an 18-wheeler. The bodies were identified through dental records, jewelry, and internal examination. Martin's father had had his appendix out and had several crowns that were readily identifiable. His mother had had a hysterectomy a few years earlier so the absence of those organs, her jewelry and dental records were enough to provide conclusive results. Still, DNA sampling was done and rushed through the lab; this was after all the Deputy Director of the FBI and his wife. All results were absolute: Victor and Jean Fitzgerald were dead.

No alcohol or medications or any suspicious substances were found in their blood and tox screens. There were no witnesses to the accident except for the driver of the truck. He survived, as most drivers of these rigs did in such an accident. Yes, the truck had jackknifed on the road, but other than that and some bruising from his seatbelt restraint, and the emotional damage of having been in the accident and somewhat of a causative factor in the death of two people, the driver was uninjured.

He had been returning from a normal delivery with an empty rig. He was driving the allowable speed on the state road, he had not been drinking, no drug use, his logs were up to date, he wasn't over his allowable hours on the road. For all intents and purposes, his record was clean and safe. He stated he had come over the little rise in the road and was met with the glare of oncoming headlights. He had nowhere to go and did the only thing he could do; he hit the brakes. Skid marks confirmed his story; the computer printout from the truck's operating system verified his speed. He was issued no ticket at the scene and was not charged with any vehicular infraction. He had come to the calling hours quietly, spoke briefly and sadly to Martin, the men had shaken hands and he had left. Noah Shook was shaken by his part in all this sorrow, but he was not to blame and Martin did not blame him.

Jack, Elena, Danny, Sam, Vivian and Marcus had all come to the calling hours. None were surprised at the number of people that lined up to pay their respects. The Fitzgeralds were well known in many circles in Washington and across the country. Martin was well thought of as well. Some of his colleagues from Seattle had flown across the country to be there, more for the son than for the parents. This had moved Martin and his New York team deeply.

The funeral was a very private affair; family only. That was how Victor had wanted it and Martin was grateful. He really hated to be on display and didn't want to go through the pomp and circumstance of a formal and large service. He should have known better, for all his father's love of the spotlight and attention to propriety, he was a deeply private person and, Victor had had specific requirements for the calling hours, a certain funeral home, cremation with the urns tastefully surrounded by photos and flowers, interment spots already reserved with plaques preselected, only needing the dates filled in, he also had been specific in that the actual service be only family. Martin was only too grateful to comply. He didn't want or have anyone special to be there with him. It was him, his Uncle Roger and two cousins and second cousin. Martin thought that would be the way he wanted it. Instead, he found it lonely and cold. He didn't shed a single tear. In fact, he didn't remember the service at all. There was no eulogy, his father hadn't wanted one. Martin hadn't any words to share. He was caught up in his own tangle of emotions of sorrow, anger, loss, and confusion.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Martin jumped at the softly spoken words at his side. So lost in his own reflections he hadn't noticed Sam's arrival. He turned towards her and saw the deep concern in her eyes. She gently reached up and brushed her fingers feather light to his bruised cheek. He flinched slightly but she kept her fingers light on his cheek.

"Vivian called me last night. I…she assured me that you were all right and that it was best to leave you alone, but I…I knew you'd be in early so…" Sam stopped and dipped her head slightly away from Martin. She was uncomfortable being open but over the past year almost two since their break up, his shooting, their recovering and strengthening of their friendship she had become a bit more confident in her ability to reach out to her friends. "I came in early to see for myself." She finished and squarely looked Martin in the eyes, taking in the dark circles, those not made by bruises, the redness of his eyes from lack of sleep and, she suspected, something more, sorrow.

"I'm a little sore." Martin's voice was a little better than it had been the night before but it was raspy.

Sam flicked her eyes to his neck and noticed that she couldn't see any indication of the attack but that was because instead of his normal crisp shirt and tie, he wore a high necked sweater under his jacket, a little casual for Martin who always turned out in a sharp suit, but certainly appropriate enough for the day at work which Vivian had made clear that all of them were to ensure was short. She figured Martin had tried the usual shirt and tie but had found it too constricting. She noticed a little gaping of the neck of the sweater at his throat and figured he had marred it a bit pulling it away from his skin. She didn't blame him one bit.

"Yeah, well, not surprising; I'm not going to ask you to go through it all right now because you know Danny and Elena are going to want to hear everything, and I don't want you to strain your voice." Sam didn't want him to have to go through it any more times than truly necessary but realized Martin would be uncomfortable with that sentiment so she chickened out a little and gave his physical discomfort as the reason. If he noticed her dissembling any, he didn't give any indication.

Nodding his thanks he turned as he heard rapid footsteps coming into the bullpen. Danny and Elena arrived together and were making a beeline straight for him with Vivian right behind. It was obvious that Vivian had notified everyone of the previous evening's attack and everyone wanted to see for themselves that Martin was really all right.

"Hey, pal, what's going on at your digs, not the safe place I've always imagined?" Danny's attempt at a little levity fell flat but no one cared. Martin managed a slight grin at the usual energy displayed by his partner.

Martin was about to answer when Jack knocked on the end of his desk.

"Martin, I briefed Van Doren on last night. She's pushed our 8:00 o'clock to now. Let's go."

Grateful for the release from the concern he alternately craved to embrace and cringed from; Martin stood up and followed Jack to the elevator. The remaining four agents watched them go and then three of them turned to Vivian.

"All right, Vivie," Danny said, "Give it to us again."

Nodding, Vivian set her purse and gun in her desk drawer and began to speak as the other three grabbed seats at the table in the center of the room.

Jack carefully evaluated Martin as they rode in the elevator up to Van Doren's office. He noted without criticism the dark high necked sweater and secretly approved. For once Fitzgerald was letting his usual stoicism down a bit and Jack thought that slight give on Martin's part would allow him and the rest of the team to heal the sorrow over time.

Stepping off the elevator as the doors opened the two men strode down the hallway to Paula Van Doren's office. The death of Victor Fitzgerald may be a private matter for Martin, however, the death of the Deputy Director of the FBI was a very public matter for the Bureau, and Van Doren needed to meet with Martin and discuss the latest findings of the investigation.

Jack already knew the findings; Van Doren had briefed him the afternoon before. He figured that although Martin was well-connected he wasn't aware of these latest findings. Jack did not look forward to this meeting. Martin had been through enough this last

week plus and after last nights attack, he looked thorough exhausted.

"Jack, Martin, please sit down."

Paula Van Doren was a woman who had risen high in a man's field and although she had deep concern for those who worked under her, she liked to keep the personal side out of the office without exception but sometimes exceptions happened. Martin was a subordinate; his father had been a superior. Now, with the father – easier for her to think of him as the deputy director, was dead, it was up to her to tell the son that it hadn't been the accident that it initially had been ruled as.

"First of all, how are you? Jack told me what happened. Are you all right?" Van Doren knew how to ask all the right questions and was a bit surprised to realize that she actually was concerned with the answer.

"I'm fine, thank you. A little sore, that's all. Jack said you have an update on the investigation. I thought it was closed."

"Well, not exactly; there have been some unpleasant developments."

Jack felt Martin tense slightly beside him and knew the next words were not going to be pleasant.

"The Virginia Crime Lab, along with the FBI Trace Evidence lab managed to examine the body of the car in great detail. It took quite a bit of time with…all the damage." She stopped for a moment as she remembered seeing the pictures of the crumpled metal, the images of the Mercedes prior to the accident and then after were shocking. A head-on collision was never pretty. At least Victor and Jean's deaths had been instantaneous.

"Once the lab was able to thoroughly examine the exterior of the car they noticed paint transfer on the side, specifically on the passenger side of the vehicle. The transfers were new. An officer checked with the garage that serviced the car as your father had had it in only a week prior for an oil change and detailing. There was no evidence of any damage to the exterior of the car. Also, the transfers were not oxidized, nor were they contaminated by any road debris or filled with any debris that would have suggested they were there prior to the accident."

"I don't understand," Van Doren had to lean forward a bit to hear Martin's words as his injured throat didn't allow him to speak very loud. "The driver of the truck said he didn't see another car. There wasn't any evidence to say that another car had been on the road."

"Not until now. The paint transfer is dark; the conditions that night were dark. It was a state road but in an area without any lights, there was no moon. If another car was there and it was dark and had been running without headlights, the truck driver wouldn't have seen it."

The office was silent as Van Doren and Jack sat quietly letting Martin absorb this information.

"You're saying that it's possible they were murdered?"

"I'm saying that the case has been reopened and labeled as a homicide, yes. The Virginia State Police are looking for the driver to question him further and forensic teams are combing the accident site and the roadway again to see if there is something they missed. Although, it's been many days now…" She let the sentence hang as she watched Martin nod his head almost automatically. After a few moments she nodded to Jack. They had decided that this next part would be best taken coming from him.

"Martin, this is going to hit the news today and due to the nature and the profile of your parents, it's going to be big news. Stuff like this – well, you know how it brings out the crazies of the world."

Martin turned slightly and looked at Jack and then back at Van Doren.

"So, what are you saying? You want to pull me off the job, stick me someplace? What?"

"Nothing like that, Martin; we do, however, want you to run any emails, phone calls, letters, packages, anything that looks slightly out of the ordinary by Meredith." Jack mentioned the name of the woman who headed up the New York office threat assessment team. This group monitored threats to agents and to public officials and high profile New Yorkers.

"I appreciate that and I know it's an order," Martin countered quickly as he saw Van Doren about to speak, "but, I'd like to keep this as quiet as possible at least in the office. I really don't want any more of an appearance of special treatment…" Martin let the sentence trail off. The truth was that he wasn't exactly sure what he wanted other than some return to normalcy. He grimaced inwardly remembering those were exactly the words he had spoken to Danny about 12 hours previous.

"That's why Meredith will be handling this personally. She won't farm it out to her team, and she will report directly to Jack, who will report anything of concern to me. Anything she says to Jack, she'll say to you, fair?"

Martin nodded. He just wanted to get out of this office and back – he couldn't say back to work as he knew Jack and the others were going to gang up on him and force him to the doctor and then home for another day off. He'd had enough of days off. Time off just meant time to think, and he didn't want to do that either.

"Okay. With that settled, go back to work. Martin, all information on the investigation in Virginia comes to me, and I'll brief you as I hear anything, understand?"

Again, Martin nodded then he stood up and headed out of her office, Jack paused for a moment to exchange a glance with his senior before following.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

(For disclaimers, see Chapter 1, please.)

**CHAPTER 3:**

Once downstairs Martin was met by Danny who was holding out his coat to him, Vivian, Elena and Sam were lined up behind him and all four had a look of, "Don't even think about arguing with us." Martin didn't argue. He took the coat Danny offered him and followed his friend out of the office, to his car and behaved himself on the way to the police station to give a formal statement and after that, to the doctor's office.

Back at the office the three women and Jack exchanged sad looks and Jack took them into his office to brief them on what had transpired in Van Doren's. All felt badly for their colleague and friend but knew that besides being there for when things went south there was little they could do. Vivian had made it clear when she spoke to the assistant at Martin's doctor's office that he was not expected back at work today and that the stubborn man would take the order better from a medical professional than any of them. She had been assured the doctor would make it clear.

On the drive to the doctor's office Danny glanced at his friend a couple of times, but Martin stayed quiet and stared straight ahead. Every few minutes Martin's hand would stray to his throat and gently massage the area a bit. Danny winced in sympathy.

Danny thumbed through a couple of magazines while waiting for Martin's doctor to finish with him. When Martin reappeared, he held a piece of paper with instructions for rest, aspirin and loose fitting collars for a couple of days. As they headed out to the car Martin looked at Danny and said, "I told you it was no big deal."

"Yeah, well, better safe than sorry. Come on, I'll take you home. You can take your car home tomorrow. I'll pick you up in the morning and take you in."

Danny ignored the scowl Martin sent his way and just grinned as he kept his eyes on the traffic in front of him. A little while later he pulled up in front of Martin's building and double parked with his flashers on. Martin unclipped his seat belt and then sat there. His mouth opened and he took a breath to speak and stopped. Danny watched and waited. He didn't know what had happened in Van Doren's office that morning but he knew it had to be bad judging from Martin's pallor when he had reappeared and the hard set to Jack's jaw. He sat quietly hoping Martin would open up a little.

"The last words my father said to me were, "Martin, you've disappointed me. I don't even know you."

Danny was floored. "What?"

For once, the usual talkative agent, always ready with a glib reply was speechless.

"When he came to New York right before…before he died, we went to lunch before he had to catch a plane back to DC. He had an envelope waiting at the table. In it were pictures. Somehow he had surveillance photos of me at an NA meeting.

"How did he…" Danny was shocked. He knew Victor was powerful and strict and had always taken a very hard stance on everything Martin did but he never imagined this. "Was he having you followed?"

Martin made a noise almost that started as a growl, but it ended up as more of a squeak on account of his stressed vocal chords. "I asked him that very question. He almost shouted across the table before he remembered we were in a public place. He wanted to know how I could accuse him of following him and then told me not to change the subject. I responded by asking how did he expect me to take it when he was throwing 8x10 photos of me obviously taken in secret." Martin kept talking and his mind flicked back to the last conversation he had had with his father. He remembered it as if it were moments ago…

_Martin walked into the restaurant right at 1:00 p.m. He scanned the room and saw his father, ram rod straight in his chair sipping from a glass of ice water. He headed over to the table, nodding at the hostess as she started to assist him; she smiled and returned to what she was doing. Martin was not necessarily looking forward to lunch with his father, nor was he dreading it as in the past. Since Martin's shooting they had managed to find a little bit of common ground and, when they managed to find time to get together, it wasn't as stilted and uncomfortable as in the past, but they had a long way to go. _

"_Hi, dad." Martin greeted his father as he shrugged out of his coat and slipped easily into the chair across from him. _

"_Martin." Martin sat back and studied his father's face at the cold biting tone that met his greeting. He hadn't expected this. He thought they were past these moments and as he hadn't been involved in the death of any foreign national, or tried questioning any senator or any other political figure in anything remotely resembling an investigation he couldn't imagine what would have his father take that tone with him._

"_Is there something wrong?" _

_In response his father slid a large manila envelope across the table to him. Martin stared at it confused and then looked up at his father. Just then the waiter approached, Martin started to speak only to be interrupted by Victor._

"_Give us a few minutes. We won't be staying for lunch." With that Victor gave the waiter a $20.00 bill adding, "For the inconvenience. We'll be gone shortly." The man nodded simultaneously confused and happy at receiving a $20.00 tip for bringing the man a glass of water._

"_Dad, I don't know…"_

"_Just open it." _

_Confused and wary, Martin undid the clasps and looked inside. Looking up at his father once again he upended the envelope, several 8x10 black and white photographs slid out onto the table. Martin picked them up and started looking through them. He felt a chill start at the base of his spine, speed quickly up his neck and nearly stand his hair on end as it reached his scalp. Despite the chill that occurred, his hands were sweaty and he felt a flush on his skin. Instantly he recognized the photos as having been taken a few days earlier at an NA meeting. Incidentally, it was the same meeting where he had finally rallied his courage and shared his story. _

_He had been nervous as anyone would be to share his story but more so because he hadn't gotten hooked on meds due to a tough lifestyle or a rough childhood. He had been shot, gotten off the meds the first time without incident only to be reinjured and that's when they had gotten him. He wasn't sure his story would be of any help to anyone around him and was certain they would all be thinking "Who is this schmuck up there kidding with his supposed hard luck story. I can't relate to him. How is this supposed to help me?"_

_Ashamed at his pathetic excuse for using pain meds he had almost stopped talking at one point until he saw someone in the audience leaning forward as if hanging on to his every word. In that moment he remembered something the stock broker has said, the one he and Danny had encountered when searching for Danny's brother Rafie a few weeks before Dornvald ambushed them on a dark street and set the wheels in motion to change Martin's life. "Drugs, the great social equalizer." He realized that this wasn't so much about him right now as it was about showing others how to not be afraid and that anybody can be affected._

_Before he knew it he was done. People were saying thank you and he sat down. Later as the meeting ended and people were milling around sipping coffee his sponsor had appeared at his elbow and congratulated him._

"_See, I told you, Martin. You'd know when the time was right to talk about your story."_

_Martin remembered being surprised to see him there. "How did you know tonight would be the night?"_

"_I didn't; neither did you. It just happens. One moment you're sitting there, the next moment you raise your arm and then off you go and you step out. I needed a meeting tonight and came here. Sometimes it's fate. Sometimes it's luck. I'm glad I was here."_

"_Me too. Thanks." _

"_No trouble. Give me a call in a day or so. We'll get together."_

_Martin remembered feeling just a little lighter as he headed home from that meeting that night. Now, as he held the pictures in his hands he felt a heavy weight hit him as he looked up and met his father's hard stare straight on._

"_How long have you been having me followed?"_

"_Martin, don't be foolish. I haven't been having you followed but somebody has been following you. These photos were delivered by an anonymous courier two days ago. My God! Who else knows? Do you know what this could mean if this were to leak out. Do you know what it would do to your mother, to me? It's obvious you've already tossed aside your own gifts and chances in politics but you have a huge future in the Bureau but not if this gets out. How long have you been a drug addict? How could you do this to me, to your mother? I…I don't even know you…I'm ashamed of you. You've disappointed me."_

"_Disappointed…what make you think this is about you?"_

"_I don't want to talk about this here."_

"_Well then why did you bring it up? Why did you invite me here and then throw this at me if you didn't want to talk about it?"_

"_I want you to fix this. I want you to stop going to these meetings. Whatever problem you have can be fixed quietly without this…this…going to meetings and whatever it is you do there. Don't embarrass me anymore. Let's just hope whoever has these photos doesn't go anywhere with them but, if they do show up somewhere, you can always say you were doing surveillance or background research for a case anything but…Fix it." _

_With that Victor pushed his chair back from the table. Standing up he fixed Martin once more with his stare. "You've disappointed me. I'm ashamed. I don't even know you." Grabbing his coat from the back of his chair Victor walked out without a backward glance at his son and left the restaurant. Martin sat at the table for another few minutes in stunned silence, staring at the pictures on the table. He looked at the photo that had him centered in the frame receiving his six month tag. _

_He had been strangely proud and confused at that moment although the photo didn't reflect those emotions. He remembered being proud because there had been a time right before Sam confronted him that he just didn't know what was going on in his life or where he was going and then he was proud because he seemed to be back on track. He was also a bit confused that night mostly because of how proud he felt at that moment. Strange that a little keepsake could mean that much to him but the truth was 'drugs were the great social equalizer' and he kind of liked that part of his life that sent him out just as Martin to share, support, be supported and to not judge or be judged._

_Martin wasn't certain how long he had sat there but the soft clearing of a throat caused him to look up. The hostess was hovering just to the side and he shook himself mentally thinking they would probably like to seat this table with someone who would actually order. He collected the photos and slid them into the envelope and then, carrying his coat, he headed out into the New York City afternoon…_

Danny sat quietly the whole time Martin was reciting the encounter. Martin didn't usually share such private moments or thoughts with anyone, at least Danny never knew him to do so but this time Martin just continued on spilling every word and allowing the hurt, anger, pain and frustration to color his voice. Danny listened and when Martin was done he continued to sit quietly. He didn't have any magic words and figured Martin didn't want to hear any platitudes. He was about to speak when Martin moved opening the car door and sliding out quickly.

"Martin." Danny leaned across the seat as Martin dipped his head back into the car.

"Someone murdered them."

Shocked Danny could only sit and stare. Whatever he had been going to say fled his mind.

"That's what the meeting was about in Van Doren's office this morning. New evidence has come to light; the Virginia State Police and the FBI are officially labeling it a homicide."

Martin turned and headed into his apartment building. Stunned, Danny could only watch him go.

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

(Disclaimers got to Prologue, please.)

**CHAPTER 4:**

The next few days passed relatively unremarkably for the team. Everyone tried to be sensitive regarding the new investigation opened into the deaths of Victor and Jean Fitzgerald. Martin brought a few messages to Meredith's attention but none of them raised any flags of concern. They were nothing more than the usual ramblings of people that had nothing better to do than watch the news for any hint of a scandal or some seamy story and then send a message out to see if a reaction would occur.

Jack kept Martin in the office for the rest of the week to allow his throat to heal as well as the bruises to his body. Martin for his part dealt with the dreaded paperwork as if it was the greatest challenge in his career. He rolled up his sleeves and cleared file after file that needed to be reviewed for any new development and reviewed a few other investigations that were getting close to trial to ensure that the Bureau's documentation was all in order. None of the cases were ones he or any of the MPU team had worked on but sometimes the oversight by a fresh set of eyes was just what was needed to make sure there were no embarrassing moments in court.

Martin hadn't mentioned to Meredith the eerie phone message he received his first day home because he had forgotten about it. He'd been busy with the paperwork, reeling from the shock of learning his parents had been murdered and with nothing having occurred since being attacked in his apartment three days ago, he had pushed it from his mind. Since he was feeling fine no sign of any injury remained except for a bruise and a cut, he didn't give it another thought.

After a weekend spent with his Uncle Roger down in DC sorting through some personal effects at his parents' house, Martin was ready to return to work bright and early Monday morning. Deciding it had been long enough without any morning exercise he left his apartment at 6:00 a.m. planning on a three mile run. Normally he preferred a longer run, but it had been a couple of weeks without regular exercise and it was still pretty chilly in late February. He lived in a decent neighborhood but even decent neighborhoods had their problem areas. If he wasn't running with one of his neighbors, he carried his Bureau-issued gun at his waist.

Martin hated the first half mile of his run. His body needed to adjust to the rhythm – the muscles in his legs, back, his lungs all needed to coordinate. After that though, running became pure pleasure and it was a perfect time to settle into the motion of the exercise and allow his mind to travel freely. Today he let his mind settle on his parents. His mother, smart, active, strong-willed in her own way taught him to appreciate that strength in other women. However, her closed off emotional barriers which he had formerly seen as strength and a quality to be appreciated he now realized were a part of his mother that he had never liked. He appreciated strong, intelligent, self-sufficient women, Sam, Vivian and Elena were prefect examples of that, but at the same time each of them showed vulnerability that he found appealing. It didn't detract from their effectiveness as agents or in their friendship with him. He was slowly beginning to realize that friends are those that see you at your worst, but like you just the same.

Vivian had probably the most reason to be put off by Martin in that his mistake so many years ago could have cost her her career. If not for the OPR finally settling on the word of two agents over that of a scared little girl likely traumatized by her kidnapping and physical injuries, Martin would have been criminally charged and Vivian would have been ousted from the Bureau, disgraced. Over the years he and Vivian's relationship had had some rough moments, but she never backed down in her genuine concern both as a colleague and a friend to him. It was Vivian he turned to when work became overwhelming and he felt lost. Her solid presence was enough to keep him on course. He knew that she felt that from him as well and he watched out for those times when she seemed unusually subdued or troubled by a case. At those times he would offer a gentle word or two and then a silent but solid presence so she would know someone was there if needed.

Sam, now there was someone who knew all about him and yet still called him friend. It had taken him almost two years to break down some of her barriers. He had liked her immediately and she had been kind and willing to teach right from the start. He realized that was Sam's way. She immediately worked with Elena as well and never once played games with Elena or Martin when she was teaching or sharing her experience. What Martin liked best about Sam though were her unguarded moments, when she inadvertently dropped a comment about herself or showed how a case troubled her, too rare, too few were those moments of vulnerability. Again, he wasn't looking for a weepy woman who couldn't handle life, but he did want to be needed and Sam, for all her doggedness to help others when they were in need just wasn't able to trust those around her that she called friends with those weaknesses or needs within herself.

Elena was someone he just liked to work with. They had no history like Vivian, Sam and he. He hadn't done something that caused her to choose protecting him over her own career, they hadn't been involved romantically and Elena hadn't called him on the mat over his drug problem. Elena was tough, capable and highly experienced in the darker side of NYC from her vice experience. They worked well together because each respected the other's experience. She never judged him by his name, seemed not to care. She listened and asked his opinions and readily shared hers. They worked well together and, although he secretly laughed at Danny's inept attempt at subtlety Martin thought they were a good couple. He knew Danny was pretty serious in his feelings towards Elena but office romances or office relationships were still tricky business. He and Sam had worked hard and their friendship was strong. Whatever happened with Danny and Elena, Martin hoped friendship would always remain.

With those thoughts flowing through his brain, sifting and sorting them as they chose Martin failed to register the sound of footsteps keeping pace with his own. So lost in his own thoughts Martin hadn't paid close attention to his route. Realizing he was further away than the three-mile loop he had intended, he stopped near a street light to check his watch. The sky was lightening as sunrise approached but he still needed the aid of the overhead light to see the time. He'd have to hurry or he'd really be late. Checking the street names Martin thought about the quickest way back so he could minimize his late arrival at the office, making up his mind he struck off again.

A few blocks later he stopped quickly at another intersection as he realized he could take a short cut and shave a few blocks from his run, this time his ears registered the unmistakable sounds of footsteps behind him as he stopped but then he didn't hear anymore. He turned and scanned the area behind him but didn't see anyone. Shaking his head he resumed his run home via his newly discovered short-cut and returned to his apartment. 6:45 a.m. Damn. He wanted -- no make that needed to leave by 7:00 a.m. to get to the office at 8:00. Well, good thing he could shower and shave together.

Dashing into his apartment he hit the button on the preset coffeemaker on his way past the kitchen and stripped off his running attire and hit the shower. Eighteen minutes later he dashed the opposite way through his apartment impeccably attired carrying a banana, bagel with peanut butter and a mug of coffee in hand. He opened his apartment door and stepped out. As he was closing the door behind him his eye caught the white paper stuck to his door. Not wanting to take the time to read whatever flyer had been pinned to his door he pulled it from the door and flicked it inside his apartment. He'd read it when he got home. Pulling the door closed behind him he locked the deadbolt and then hurried down the stairs, into the parking garage, got into his car and drove to the office.

The paper that he flicked into his apartment before closing his door didn't neatly land on the table inside the door; Martin's rushed motions and the breeze from the rapid closing of the door combined to cause the paper to slide completely across the surface of the table and off the other side where it landed on top of the stack of sympathy cards and emails that Martin had read and printed off and neatly placed in cardboard box on the floor between his bookcase and desk. He intended to write little response notes over the next several weeks thanking people for their thoughts, gifts, well wishes and sorrow. So, the pile was increased by one lone sheet of paper that slipped off the table, turned over in the air and settled, face down on the pile. The message it contained would be seen by no one until they grabbed that innocent looking piece of paper and turned it over to see the message written by hand in block letters using a black pen:

HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR MORNING RUN I KNOW I DID

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

(Disclaimers got to the Prologue, please.)

**CHAPTER 5:**

"Martin, come in to my office, please." Martin looked up at the sound of Jack's voice behind him. Jack met his gaze and nodded his head towards his office. With a slight sigh Martin got up and followed him.

"Have a seat." Jack motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk and, instead of sitting behind his desk subtly keeping a barrier not only physically but emotionally between him and others; he took the second chair and angled himself towards Martin.

"Does the name Noah Shook mean anything to you?"

"Other than being the name of the man driving the 18-wheeler, no. Why?"

"Just that he seems to have dropped off the radar completely. The Virginia State Police called his number to have him come back in and give another interview, and he's nowhere to be found. He hasn't been back at work, his friends and family haven't seen him. He hasn't been to any of his normal recreational places – there's nothing. He's gone."

"I saw his picture at the police station and, of course, I met him at the viewing but other than that I haven't ever seen him or spoken to him before." Martin was positive about his comments until he remembered a case not too long ago when he had been asked for specifically by the missing girl's brother because she had worked with him and his team members in Seattle. The problem was, in the end after the girl tragically killed herself, Martin could never place her face in his memory. Since then he'd been making a concerted effort to take notice of the people that were regularly in his life, even if just for brief moments each time.

"Maybe if I take a look at his background information it will ring a bell but right now I have no recollection of him."

"All right. An agent who's conducting the official investigation will come and review Shook's information with you and interview you. Van Doren filled me in on this earlier so I wanted to give you a head's up."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Martin wanted to ask if there were any other developments but just couldn't bring himself to say the words. It seemed so strange to be working as an FBI agent and a participant in an investigation at the same time. Well, if this morning's run was any indication of how good it was to sort through some of his thoughts, he'd be getting up earlier tomorrow to run longer. He could start a list of all the various thoughts that needed sorting.

"Anything else?"

"Not on this, but we did catch a case. Call the group together; I'll be out in a moment to brief everyone."

"Sure." Martin stood up, grateful to push aside his own problems and get to work on someone else's.

Two days later Martin was once again getting ready to head into the office. He'd enjoyed three morning runs in a row and felt like his form was returning quickly. He relished the morning runs because of the quiet and peace that was afforded him. However, this morning he had had a distinctly uneasy feeling during his run. As is normal for most who are involved in any type of high stress, high danger occupation, Martin's instincts were honed a little sharper and this morning he was certain he was being followed. Once during his run he had stopped abruptly and listened. Sure enough there was the sound of footsteps behind him and then suddenly silence.

Not wanting to tip his follower that he was aware, Martin nonchalantly performed a couple of leg stretches while he scanned his surroundings. He saw no one but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled sharply, and he knew with a certainty that he was the mouse in someone's game of cat and mouse. Deciding there was safety in numbers; Martin altered his run and opted for a longer but slightly more crowded route home. Within under a minute he was out on a main boulevard that was beginning to fill in with other joggers and commuters. Twenty minutes later he was back at his apartment never having sighted his follower but certain in a sixth sense way that he had been marked and followed all the way home.

Martin figured he'd mention this to Meredith even though he felt silly about the whole thing. He didn't have any proof besides hearing some footsteps and his sixth sense. For all he knew, it could have been another runner like himself who feared for their safety and stopped when he had. Still, he'd told Jack he would cooperate and so he decided that when he got to the office, he'd give Meredith a call.

This time as he left his apartment he wasn't in a huge hurry despite altering his run that morning. He hadn't been sleeping a lot since his parent's death and had risen earlier to run so he actually had some time to spare. He and Danny had a 9:30 meeting set up at their latest missing person's place of employment. He would be able to get into the office before 8:00, call Meredith and meet up with Danny to head to the warehouse on the docks in plenty of time. The fact that he had the time this morning caused him to pay attention to the folded white sheet of paper taped to his front door. Instead of tossing it inside or shoving it in his pocket he stood there, unfolded it and read the words. Instantly the hairs on his neck stood straight up and he felt a chill run up his spine and through his scalp as he read the words printed in block letters using black ink:

RUN TO THE PARK RUN TO A BUSY STREET RUN DOWN AN ALLEY RUN WHEREVER YOU WANT YOU WILL NOT OUTRUN ME

Shocked Martin stood still for a moment and then training kicked in. Reaching inside his briefcase he pulled out one of the evidence bags he kept inside, slipped the sheet of paper inside, sealed it up, and put it inside his briefcase. Yes, he definitely would be turning this in to Meredith. With a quick look up and down the hall Martin headed down to his car.

He no sooner settled in his car and locked the door behind him when his cell phone rang. Sticking the key in the ignition and turning the car on with one hand he pulled out his phone with the other and flicked it open. Call ID said it was Jack.

"Fitzgerald."

"I need you to head to the docks right now. The rest of the team is heading there. We're meeting up with the local PD and a SWAT team. Seems our missing person isn't missing anymore. He's in the warehouse you and Danny were headed to later this morning. He says he's got a bomb and is going to blow up the building. Since we've been profiling him for the last two days looking for him, PD wants us involved."

"Got it. You need lights and sirens?."

"Absolutely. Everyone is rolling Code 3."

Martin pulled the dome light out, rolled down his window and activated it. He waited until he was out of the garage before hitting his siren and sped down the road to the warehouse; his briefcase on the seat next to him forgotten, along with the sheet of paper in the evidence bag that lay inside the case.

Arriving at the scene Martin spotted his team assembling while Vivian pulled in right behind him. He popped his trunk and grabbed his gear trading his overcoat and suit jacket for his bullet proof vest, windbreaker and a baseball cap; all visibly displaying the initials FBI. With Vivian hurrying alongside him in her matching gear he reached Jack who began splitting the teams up.

"Martin, you, Elena and Danny go with Lieutenant Tibbs and his officers. You're going to come around the side by the river. Sam, Vivian, you're with Hotaling's men covering the other side."

The team broke up while Jack remained with Rick Torriani, the leader of the SWAT team. As always they would try to negotiate first. They were unsure how many people remained inside the warehouse or even if Brian Schuford, their missing person now potential bomber, even had a bomb.

That question was answered within under a minute as one of the sharpshooters for Torriani's SWAT team radioed back that he had a clear view of the subject and that he did, in fact, have a remote control in his hand. A few seconds later another member of the team, whose specialty was fiber optics, reported in saying that he had snaked a periscope camera through a window and managed to get a view of the area around Schuford. There was what looked to be a bomb on the floor at his feet. The SWAT member also reported there were at least twenty people inside the room. They were assembled in one group and seated on the floor near a truck that was labeled flammable, dangerous, contents under pressure.

"Great. We have a building with the potential to blow sky high, close to two dozen hostages, a guy with a bomb and no idea what his problem is. This should be simple to negotiate. Do we have a phone line in there? Any idea what's going on in this guy's head?"

"That's why we brought you guys in here. Heard you were looking for him since he'd been called in missing so we hoped you would have some insight into his mindset." Rick Torriani loved the thrill of the moment, but he was experienced and mature enough in his work to know that thrills were better enjoyed through rock climbing or parachuting. There was no thrill in having twenty hostages and over two dozen law enforcement personnel in harm's way. He sized Jack up quickly and knew that he was right to have called in Malone once he'd been briefed the Feds had been looking for this guy. Malone, like him, understood life and death situations. He would help if he could, but he would not get in the way if Torriani chose to end this quickly.

"My team and I have been looking into this guy's background for the last two days. He's unmarried but has a steady girlfriend. She's the person who called him in as missing. They've been living together for the last five years and she said that he'd been fine; not acting worried, no strange visitors, nothing and then suddenly he didn't come home from work one night. We've been trailing his bank accounts, phone records, nothing. We were here two days ago when we got called in and this morning two members of my team were due back to conduct some follow up interviews with people he worked with when you guys called us. So far, there's nothing to tell us he'd do anything like this."

"Great. Well, like I said, he's not communicating with us. Apparently he came in like normal, carrying a box but nobody thought anything of it. Then he started screaming that he was going to blow everybody up, and he set the box on the ground and started screaming that he was going to push the button on the remote if the SWAT, PD and the FBI didn't come down here. So, here we are."

"Great, we're here. He knows we're here, but he's not talking. Does he know the FBI is here now, too?" When Torriani shook his head indicating no, Jack held his hand out for the megaphone.

"Brian Shuford, this is Jack Malone from the FBI. My team and I have been looking for you for the past couple of days. You're girlfriend, Marianne, has been worried about you. She's asked us to look for you. She's scared. Now that we've found you, why don't you let us get you back to Marianne. She's really very worried and frightened for you."

Jack stopped talking and waited, listening and hoping Brian would reach out to them. After about thirty seconds of silence, one of Torriani's snipers called in with an update.

"Boss, this guy is really out of it. He's weaving around the room, looks like he's screaming and yelling, I can't tell what he's saying but he just keeps waving the remote device around. If I have a shot, do I have the green light?"

Torriani looked at Jack. Jack thought for a few moments and looked at his counterpart.

"It's your call. We haven't uncovered anything in our research on this guy that points to this kind of behavior. If he's not reaching out to us, I don't see how we can put his welfare above that of everyone else left on this pier."

Torriani nodded his agreement and keyed his mike.

"This is leader to sniper 1 and 2, you are go. Repeat. You are a go. If you have the shot, take the shot. Repeat, the light is green."

Less than twenty seconds later the crack of a sniper's rifle split through the air.

"Martin!" Danny shouted in horror as he saw Martin get thrown backward and disappear over the edge of the pier from the force of the impact.

"Shots fired! Shots fired! Agent down! Agent down!" Danny shouted into his radio as he raced without regard for his own safety to where Martin had disappeared. Reaching the edge he looked and saw the white foaming disturbance of the water and knew Martin had disappeared into the dark and near freezing water. Quickly he shed his jacket, vest and kicked off his shoes. He saw one of Tibbs' men racing his way as he heard Jack's voice shouting in his ear piece. Elena was beside him and he tossed her his gun before leaping off the edge feet first.

His plan was to jump directly in the center of the disturbed water hoping it would take him on Martin's path. He knew that, if Martin was conscious when he hit, he would struggle to surface with the weight of his vest and shoes. Danny didn't want to think about if Martin wasn't conscious. In less than a second he hit the icy water and the shock ripped straight through his body and rational thought fled. He almost gasped at the searing pain in his body as if millions of icy daggers were digging through his flesh. He managed to curl over himself so that he was now descending hands first and almost cried out in relief when his hands almost immediately touched fabric. Praying that a miracle had been granted he grabbed on full force and dragged whatever it was towards him. He realized almost immediately that it was Martin and that he was conscious and was trying to surface. Wrapping Martin tight to his chest he kicked strongly and between his strong efforts and Martin's weaker ones they surfaced.

Danny kept Martin clutched tight to his chest and eased onto his back in the water. He was shaking with the cold and could feel Martin's body shaking as well. He heard shouts and turned around to see that they were about twenty feet away from the edge of the dock and several workers had run to their aid. Danny kicked with his feet and used one arm to push through the water and was slowly making progress. Someone threw a rope that landed just ahead of his hand, kicking harder he reached it, grabbed hold and managed to loop it around his wrist. Still kicking to keep them afloat he felt the tension increase on the rope until it pulled on his arm and they were pulled to safety.

Several hands reached out and grabbed Martin from him. Martin tried to help but was too disoriented from the fall, the cold and the force of the impact. He was shaking badly and trying to breathe normally again since all the air had been knocked out of him when the bullet slammed into his vest. Danny watched gratefully as Martin was hauled onto the pier and then allowed himself to be pulled up as well.

Looking up Danny saw Jack racing towards him. Their rescuers were crowding around them trying to ask them what happened and all Danny could do was shake with cold and reach out to Martin who was curled on his side coughing and shaking.

"Federal Agents, step back, please, please. Somebody get some blankets. I've got the rescue team on its way here."

Somehow Sam had appeared, Danny didn't remember seeing her running with Jack but there she was and she had managed to notify the ambulance crew that was dispatched with the SWAT team in case something went wrong and Danny heard the siren signaling the fast approach of the paramedics.

"Martin, Martin. Where were you hit?" Jack was kneeling next to his agent. While he was peppering Martin with questions trying to keep him awake as hypothermia was a real concern due to the temperature of the water and the ambient air, he was quickly removing Martin's windbreaker and undoing the Velcro straps of the life saving vest.

Martin's only response was to continue to cough and gasp for air. Once Jack pulled off Martin's vest the answer was clear. One bullet was embedded in the vest right over the spot of Martin's heart, not wanting to dwell on that at this moment Jack continued to pull off Martin's shirt, glancing quickly at Danny he saw that Sam was helping him do the same. At that moment the paramedics arrived and quickly took over.

Three hours later, the team regrouped in the conference room at the MPU office. Martin and Danny had been taken to the hospital and checked over. Martin had had x-rays to verify that no ribs had been broken but several were severely bruised. His lungs were clear although the doctor did warn him that he might develop a chest cold and, if he showed signs, he should head to his own doctor immediately.

Danny had been checked over as well but, since he was cold and not hurt, once he warmed up he was given a clean bill of health. Elena drove them both back to the office where they settled in at the conference table in the spare clothes they kept in their cars for travel and for workouts after work. Still shaking even though their body temperature was normal, both men opted for their sweatpants and thick sweatshirts.

Vivian set steaming mugs of coffee in both men's hands and rested her own comfortingly on each of their shoulders for a moment.

Martin wrapped both hands around the mug and took a sip relishing as the liquid heat slid down his throat. He could trace the travel of the coffee as he felt the trail of heat on his insides. He shuddered in the enjoyment of the sensation which sent Sam, just entering the room, to disappear momentarily only to return with two thick blankets. She wrapped one around Martin, lightly cuffing him on his head when he began to protest and handed the other to Danny.

"What, not going to wrap me up?" Danny tried to look hurt but managed to pout instead.

"Nope, you have too much pride. Martin has more commonsense."

Danny groaned while Martin grinned and gripped the blanket gratefully. Just then Jack entered the room. He eyed his agents critically, noticing their incredibly casual attire. Good, that will make sending them home easier.

"Well, that's another case successfully closed." Jack's dry humor caused them all to chuckle a bit. Granted, to some the humor would be ghoulish, since they closed their missing person file with the missing person ending up on the medical examiner's table with a bullet through his forehead but, when someone worked in the law enforcement or medical field or any field that put you in touch with the best and the worst life can offer, humor takes many forms and is necessary to keep those who labor in the field sane.

"So, Martin, I checked with the hospital, bruised ribs. That earns you the rest of today off and a week of light duty until you see your own doctor and he clears you for full duty. Danny, you get the rest of today off because you're an idiot."

"What?! I –"

"You broke cover with someone shooting, You jumped into near freezing water –"

"And saved my partner's life! That makes me more a hero I believe."

"Exactly what I said…hero/idiot…idiot/hero. It's really all the same thing. You didn't think. You acted. You didn't think of yourself, the danger you were putting yourself in. You just acted. Your actions could have gotten yourself injured or killed; thankfully, your actions saved a life. Good job."

Martin reached over and closed Danny's mouth that was hanging open speechless for once. Swatting away Martin's hand Danny began to chuckle.

Jack began again in a more serious tone.

"However, before you go -- because you're both leaving now you can do your reports at home separately and turn them in tomorrow -- Martin, I need to see you in my office."

Shrugging out of the blanket Martin stood, grabbed his coffee mug and followed Jack out.

"Me, what make you think I'm a target?" Martin was sitting in the chair across from Jack's desk while Jack was in his usual spot behind the desk.

"A bullet center-mass tells me you're a target." Jack waited as he watched Martin stare at him. Jack was almost certain he could hear the wheels cranking in Martin's head.

"So, somebody is out there with a high-powered rifle, and takes a shot at law enforcement on the dock and you suspect that I'm the target? That doesn't make a lot of sense. First of all Danny was barely fifteen feet from me wearing nearly identical clothing. Between the caps and sunglasses we both had on it would be nearly impossible to tell between him and me, not to mention that there were over two dozen police officers on that dock and hundreds of other people. It's entirely possible that whoever fired that shot was looking to shoot at somebody this morning anyway and decided it would make the game more exciting to shoot at law enforcement and who would be the bigger fish? The NYPD? SWAT? Or the FBI? As soon as we hit the scene it was all over, we're the biggest name on the dock so go after someone with FBI on his head, back and chest."

"It's a good argument, Martin. And, normally I would agree with you, but just a week and half ago you were attacked in your apartment and nearly strangled and now you're shot in the chest. The fact that you had your bullet proof vest on and a partner who was ready to die saving you is the only reason you're sitting here arguing with me."

"Okay. How does someone trying to mug me in my apartment nearly two weeks ago become a sniper? If someone wanted me dead, they'd have done a better job two weeks ago or today. I mean, come on, Jack, if you're a sniper and you're hunting someone to kill them, you don't take a chest shot when you can be absolutely certain they're wearing a vest. You take the kill shot. That's what the SWAT snipers did this morning."

Jack was silent as he mulled over Martin's words. He realized Martin was right. If someone really wanted to kill someone, they wouldn't do it in such a risky manner with so many variables. Besides, who would have known Martin was even at the docks that morning. No, if someone wanted Martin dead, they'd follow him on the outside and attack him when he wasn't wearing a vest and was isolated.

"Yeah, you're right. I just needed to hear the arguments argued back at me. Look, go home. Try to get some sleep. Put some ice on your ribs, watch a movie, whatever. Tomorrow you can hang out in the office. No running around for a few days. Ah, your ride is here."

Jack nodded to the door as Sam opened it and stood there.

"I can drive myself."

"Yeah, yeah, we know. Come on. Remember, I said you were the one with commonsense. Don't make a liar out of me."

Jack watched them go. Martin made good arguments – sound arguments but Jack hadn't gotten where he had gotten in the FBI without learning to trust his instincts. He didn't have proof and the random events could be just that, random events, but he didn't think so. Grabbing the phone he dialed Van Doren's office.

TBC…

(Author's note: I took pity on the readers, especially since I am often the reader not the writer, since Chapter 4 was so short, I gave you Chapter 5 as well. Don't expect that every time. Thanks for everyone who is reading and writing or just plain reading.)


	6. Chapter 6

(Disclaimers go to the prologue, please.)

**CHAPTER 6:**

"Thanks for the ride home, Sam."

"No problem. Come on, let's get you inside."

"I think I can take it from here."

"Yeah, well, Jack said I was to see that you got home safely. I'm following orders. I'm going to make sure you get inside safely. Now, let's go."

Smiling Martin exited the car and headed inside Sam right beside him.

As Martin unlocked his apartment and stepped inside he turned to Sam. "Safe and sound. See. You've done your job."

"Yep, I missed lunch, too. You got anything to eat?"

"Probably. Check the 'fridge. You know your way around."

The words were out before he even thought them through. Their eyes met briefly emotions glimmering then the moment passed both breaking contact at the same time. Sam headed for the kitchen and before long she managed a couple of sandwiches for both of them.

Sitting down at the table Martin slid a piece of paper towards Sam. "Do me a favor will you? Get rid of that, okay?"

She opened the slip of paper. It was a prescription for some painkillers for his ribs. Sam looked at Martin but he was chewing his sandwich and staring into nothing. She slipped the prescription into her pocket. They ate in silence each lost in their own thoughts. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence and both appreciated the fact that they had repaired their friendship to such a strong level that even in emotional moments they could take comfort from each other's silence rather than feeling strained. Sam noticed Martin's attention was frequently drawn to a box full of papers sitting on the floor next to his desk.

After finishing the sandwiches, Martin rose automatically and gathered the plates and headed into the kitchen. While he was rinsing them and stacking them in the sink for washing later, Sam wandered into the main room and stood staring down at the box that had been capturing Martin's attention. Knowing that Martin would deny her nothing in his apartment she crouched down next to the box and lifted a few sheets. Tears sprang to her eyes as she realized that it contained sympathy cards, letters and emails.

She figured he was saving them so he could respond to them. Looking down she realized there were dozens and dozens of cards and innumerable sheets of paper, probably emails from colleagues and people far away who had only just heard and wanted to respond. She couldn't imagine how it had felt to open and read each one. She knew it was going to be very hard for him to respond to them.

Suddenly Sam felt suffocated and wanted to flee and in the next instant she was ashamed. Martin was her friend. He was more than a colleague and former lover, he was her friend. She had promised to be there until she knew he was all right and suddenly she was struck with the knowledge that that really meant she was always going to be there for Martin because at any given time he could not be all right. That's the way life worked. That was the nature of friendship. She realized that friendship went far beyond an occasional dinner and remembering a birthday.

Fortunately, in that moment the storybook 'saved by the bell' event occurred literally as the doorbell to Martin's apartment rang. Startled she almost dropped the sheets of paper that she had been holding. She heard Martin's footsteps behind her as he came from the kitchen to answer the door. He glanced at her holding the pages from the box and smiled sadly but without censor that she might have been snooping as he answered the door.

Sam absently began to turn the handful of papers over and line them up so they all faced the same direction. She always found that organizing objects was soothing when her emotions were anything but. One of the pages caught her eye and before she could stop herself she read the short note written in block letters in black ink. Stunned she stepped back a bit and looked up sharply as she heard Martin's puzzled voice responding to the delivery person.

"Someone sent me flowers?"

"That's right, pal, says so on the order. Deliver immediately to one Martin Fitzgerald. It's all paid for and everything even included a tip for the delivery."

"Thanks." Martin said absently as he took the tissue wrapped arrangement and stepped back into his apartment and closed the door.

"Guess I shoulda left out the part about the tip already being covered." The delivery person grumbled to himself as he headed down the hall. "Coulda got me another couple of bucks."

Back inside the apartment Sam watched Martin as he walked to the coffee table and set the arrangement down. "Martin?"

"Hang on, Sam, might as well see who this is from." Martin pulled the envelope off the side of the tissue paper and opened the card. Sam watched as the remaining color in his face drained away and she stepped forward to offer him a supporting hand.

"I told Jack it was stupid to think…it makes no sense…but…"

"Martin, you're scaring me. Sit down. What is it?"

She took the card from his unresisting fingers and helped him sit down on the couch. Taking the card from his hands she sat next to him on the couch. Flashing another concerned look Martin's way she looked down at the card in her hand and read:

**_Guess you won't be running for a few days. Shouldn't worry about the bullet, since you have no heart, it wouldn't have hit anything important anyway. This was just my way of letting you know, I'm still coming._**

For a moment Sam just stared at the card refusing to accept the implications. Slowly she looked from the card to the note in her hand and finally let her eyes rest on Martin. He was sitting next to her, staring at nothing while he absently rubbed his chest where the bullet had impacted with his Kevlar vest. He turned and met her eyes, his own unreadable. Wordlessly Sam held out the paper she had found in the box in his apartment. Curious he took it and read the words. Sam watched and waited. She realized he hadn't seen the note before as his eyes widened and realization struck him.

"Sam, there's another note…I have it…it's in my briefcase. I found it this morning taped to my door. I was going to see Meredith when I got in the office to tell her I think someone has been following me when I run. Then, leaving for work this morning there was a note – very much like this one – taped to my door. I put it in an evidence bag and…it's in my car. Jack called. I went to the docks. Someone drove my car to the office. My briefcase with the letter is still there…wait a…where did you find this?"

"It was in the box with all the cards and notes for…your parents."

"Couple of days ago something was on my door but I was running late and didn't look…"

"I'm calling Jack."

Sam pulled out her phone and hit her speed dial calling up Jack's number.

"Malone."

"Jack, it's Sam. You're right, Martin is in danger."

"I know. I was just about to call you. Vivian and Elena are on their way to pick you up. I'm changing your detail. We're getting Martin to a safe house. I'll explain when I meet you there. Don't answer the door for anyone but Viv and Elena."

"Got it. We'll be ready to move. Bye."

Martin had been watching her intently and pounced the second she disconnected the call.

"Move where? Where are we going?"

"I don't know. All Jack said was that Viv and Elena are on their way. We're to wait for them and then we all go to a safe house."

"What did you mean when you said to Jack that he was right? I talked to him before we left. We agreed I wasn't a target."

"Yeah, well, prior to that we arranged that you were not to be left alone and or unguarded. I was to bring you home and leave you with strict instructions not to leave and Jack was detailing some agents to guard you." 

"It would have been nice to have been included in this plan."

"And if you were included, would you have gone along with it?"

Martin's lack of response was all the answer Sam needed. She raised her eyebrows knowingly at him and he grinned slightly as he realized they were right not to tell him at least until solid proof had been established. He didn't know whether he should be relieved that such proof had been established or what he should feel at that moment. So, instead of dealing with that issue he switched gears.

"So, where are we going?"

"Some safe house that Jack has arranged; I suggest you pack a bag. Once we get you there, we're not likely to let you go."

Two hours later the MPU team gathered in a one of the FBI's locations to keep and protect special witnesses. While Martin didn't qualify as a special witness, Van Doren had authorized the use and the release of Malone and his team to protect Martin and use their skills at piecing together puzzles to find out who was targeting Martin and why.

"After you left I had Vivian dig a little deeper into Schuford's past. He seemed pretty clean on the first pass but something had to have set him off. Also, a lot of the hostages had mentioned that he kept saying "This isn't supposed to happen like this. He said it would be easy," over and over again while he was inside the warehouse. I wanted to know who "he" was and what was supposed to be easy." Jack paused and glanced at Vivian who picked up the narration.

"I had some deep background information on its way in when we got the call this morning. I decided to review it when we got back to the office. Turns out Schuford had a record that had been sealed. He and two codefendants were involved in an armed robbery of a convenience store that ended with the store owner getting killed. Because Schuford was only 15 at the time and he wasn't involved with the gun and cooperated in giving up the guy who did have the gun, he was tried as a minor and sentenced to time in a juvenile detention center. He's kept clean ever since without so much as a parking ticket."

"All right, so he has a history with the law when he was a minor, how does that equate to Martin being in danger?" Danny spoke up as confused as Martin and Sam were at this point.

"Here's where it gets interesting," Elena took up the thread from Vivian. "I contacted the court where he was sentenced on the juvenile offense and managed to fast track a subpoena to see inside the file; his codefendant turns out to be a man who has a long history with the criminal justice system and the Department of Corrections. His name is Antwon Poulos. He was the one who actually fired the gun, killing the store owner. He was 17 at the time and was given a youthful adjudication sentence for manslaughter. He served his sentence and was released on parole. Since then he's been in and out of the prison system mostly with assaults and weapons charges."

"Okay. So far none of these names ring a bell to me. Why were you so concerned when you didn't know about the notes until Sam and I turned them over to you?" Martin couldn't help some of the frustration creeping into his voice. He was tired, frustrated and hated the idea that he was moved out of his own apartment into some house where he could be monitored 24/7. It was his job to protect people, not sit back and let others protect him.

"It begins to come together when we get to Noah Shook." Jack watched as Martin's attention sharply focused on him. He hated to reopen barely healed, cancel that, completely unhealed wounds, but he needed to lay out what he knew to Martin. It was only fair.

"Right after you left I called upstairs to find out if there had been any further news out of Virginia. I hoped there had been a development and there had. Virginia PD found Noah Shook. They had a Be On Look Out for his car ever since reopening your parent's case. About mid-morning today the BOLO turned up his car. He had been staying at a motel just outside of Richmond. Hotel clerk said he had checked in a couple days prior waving around a wad of cash and paying for a week in advance; clerk hadn't seen him since.

Upon entering his room they found him. He'd been dead for a couple of days. The AC was on and turned down keeping the temperature of the room fairly cold, it was about 50 degrees in there. Still the decomp was pretty gross but there weren't too many guests at the hotel and the clerk hadn't bothered the guy since he had paid in advance and this isn't the kind of motel with room service or even daily housekeeping.

Shook had been killed by someone who used a wire and strangled him. The wire left impressions similar to what happened to you. I figure the person who killed him probably tried to kill you. Forensics is all over the room but so far there are no fingerprints, no hairs, no nothing."

Jack paused and watched as Martin digested the news

"So, Noah Shook was killed in the same manner that I was attacked. It's a thin link but a link. This happens within a few days at the most of the Virginia State Police and the FBI reopening my parents' accident and labeling it as a homicide.

Today we find out that our missing person, who's killed while threatening to blow up himself, at least 20 hostages, and a section of a warehouse, has a prior juvenile history linked to an Antwon Poulos who has a lengthy criminal history.

While we're at that location I'm shot with a sniper's bullet and then once home, flowers arrive with a strange note that I now know links back to two prior notes I received, one two days ago and one just this morning which, by the way, I was to Meredith when I got called to go to the warehouse instead.

We're still missing something, Jack. Obviously there's a threat against me. Also fairly obvious my parents were murdered. Where's the connection. Shook's cause of death and my attack appear connected but where's the real proof?"

Jack had held his last card letting Martin sift through the details and slowly become accustomed to the knowledge that his parents' murder and his attacks were related. Now he was going to show his last card and see if Martin could finish the puzzle because while Jack had the information he lacked was an understanding of how it fit together.

"We found out something else about Noah Shook. Apparently his squeaky clean record isn't as squeaky clean as first thought. He too had a brush in his past with the criminal justice system.

Remember I said there were two codefendants in the case involving Brian Schuford, one was Antwon Poulos? The other was Noah Shook. Shook, like Schuford, cooperated in fingering Poulos for the manslaughter; also, like Schuford he was 15 and thus tried as a minor. His record was sealed, and he's kept himself clean with the law ever since.

Once I had the connection between Shook, Schuford, and Poulos, I decided to look into Poulos more closely since his two codefendants were now dead. Poulos was released from Shawangunk prison six months ago. He'd been serving another felony weapons charge. Poulos' has an alias which he used during two of his three prior state bids, James Poulos and he served sentences at Collins, Fishkill and most recently Shawangunk Correctional Facility. He got parole but absconded and ---"

"Wait a minute. Did you say Collins Correctional Facility?"

Jack stopped talking at Martin's sharp interruption. All his team members focused on Martin's face that was now very alert and intense as he awaited Jack's response.

"That's right. He was released from Collins Correctional Facility six months ago on merit, presumptive release from the Department of Corrections. He has postrelease supervision but dropped out of sight almost immediately. Why? What does that mean to you?"

"James Poulos, Antwon Poulos, did he also have an alias of Antwon James?" 

Jack nodded silently. He didn't know what picture was about to be created, but he knew he had been right. Somehow, if given the pieces, Martin would be able to create the picture.

"Oh, God. I know who killed my parents. I know why he did it. He did it because of me."

TBC…


	7. Chapter 7

(Disclaimers go to Prologue, please.)

**CHAPTER 7:**

Five pair of eyes were focused on Martin as he slowly stood up and walked around the room collecting his thoughts. After a minute of silence Martin turned back to the team and began to talk:

"I did an internship almost fifteen years ago at Collins Correctional Facility. I taught the prisoners accounting -- remember, Danny, we talked about prison art?"

Danny nodded silently leaning forward not wanting to miss any detail from Martin's story.

"Yeah…I taught accounting there and while I was there a few of the inmates started to confide in me to a degree. Seems there was quite an illegal operation going on inside the prison. All prisons have illegal dealings going on some were just shadier than others. This one was pretty bad. Some of the correction officers had a pretty complex operation going on that included -- not only the usual contraband of drugs, alcohol and even visits from area prostitutes -- but they also managed to work some deals that certain prisoners would get transferred to maximum security facilities instead of others and those that should go up to maximum because they were problematic at the medium security got transferred to low."

"How did they manage that?" Jack was astounded at that revelation but more so that he hadn't ever heard about it.

"As I said, it was a complex operation involving multiple levels within booking, reception, medical, you name it. people were in on it. It would have been a huge scandal and one that DOCS didn't want publicized so, while they were able to shut it down, they did it quietly. The state's political figures didn't want a big scandal either so most cooperated to keep the juicier bits under sealed records.

I got wind of what was happening regarding the prisoner transfers because one of the inmates in my accounting group was selected to go to a maximum facility instead of another inmate, Antwon James. James had served his previous term for manslaughter, the one that involved Shook and Schuford but was back in for a felony weapons charge. He was at Collins instead of a maximum security prison due to his latest state bid. However, he caused so many problems at Collins that DOCS initiated the orders to move him to Shawangunk which is maximum.

Of course James didn't want to go to Shawangunk and since he was also one of the ring leaders in Collins and basically the right hand man to the leader of the organization, it was arranged for someone else to take the fall. That someone was David Mears. Mears was in for a short indeterminate term, one to three years, and had been at Collins for about four months already. He heard that he had been selected as the replacement for James and was worried. Mostly he was worried because not only would he be finishing out James' sentence at Shawangunk which is a particularly nasty place, but because James had made it clear that if he breathed a word about this to anyone, his mother would be harmed.

Mears was in my class, knew I taught at a couple of institutions and asked if I knew anything about Shawangunk. I told him I had never been there but knew it was maximum security and had a tough reputation. When I asked him why he wanted to know about it he just mumbled something about he guessed he'd find out when he got there. That was it that was all he said. However, I knew a bit about his sentence and was surprised he'd be going there so I did an inmate lookup into his history and, after looking at it, realized there was no way he'd be going there. Couple of weeks later he was gone. I asked a couple of the inmates in class if he had been paroled they said that he had been transferred off and that was it."

"But you didn't buy it, did you?" Vivian spoke up softly.

Martin shook his head. "No, I didn't. I did some checking on the DOCS site and according to the site David Mears was still at Collins So I dug deeper and checked into all the transfers out of Collins and into Shawangunk and the only transfer I found was Antwon James. I downloaded James' his mug shot, memorized it and one day watched the gym call backs in the company that David Mears used to live in and, according to DOCS was still assigned to, and there was Antwon James only now everyone called him David Mears."

"And you started an investigation?" Elena asked.

"Didn't have to; I wasn't the only one tipped off on what was going on. Internal Affairs had been slowly putting together a case on the drugs, prostitutes and other contraband at Collins I was questioned because of my close contact with the inmates, the investigators wanted to know what I heard or saw. I mentioned to one of them that I didn't see anything unusual being passed in the classes but that I was aware of something strange going on. I gave them the info I had and that was it; about two months later the whole scheme unraveled.

However, it was too late for David Mears; he had been killed by a riot up at Shawangunk. No one ever proved the riot was anything other than an unrelated event but most suspected it was staged to ensure his silence, although it didn't do them any good since the game was already up back at Collins.

Turns out the illegal activities went all the way to the head officer at Collins, Thomas Sayers. Pillar of the community was what people thought so it was going to be a big blow."

"How come there's no mention of his involvement? That would have turned NYS DOCS on its head and would have been a huge scandal. Why haven't I heard of it?" Jack was puzzled. He had heard of drug rings, prostitutes and various contraband in lots of prisons but illegal prisoner transfers and falsification of records, nothing.

"Sayers killed himself and his wife to spare them the humiliation. She had been his administrative assistant at the prison and the one that did all the paperwork on the transfers. The two of them were partners in all the illegal activity. Right before the indictments were going to be handed down against them both, they were killed tragically in a train versus car accident. Publicly it was announced as a horribly tragedy, dark night and poor conditions with an icy road. The press was told that his car had slid through the safety barrier and gotten stuck on the tracks as the train came barreling through.

Everyone bought it, the husband and wife were publicly mourned and the mayor and the local police department let it rest there. The governor and DOCS didn't want the public outcry and intense scrutiny that would come by revealing what they knew about the prisoner transfers. Drugs, contraband, prostitutes none of that was a big deal since everyone knows these things happen in prisons on a daily basis, but the illegal transferring of prisoners, falsifying of records even the death of an inmate because of such a transfer whether his death was accidental or not no, the officials in DOCS wanted it covered up quickly and quietly to avoid lawsuits not to mention the public relations nightmare of trying to convince the public that the State of New York was able to keep violent felons incarcerated and the public safe.

They decided with the ring crushed and, since the ones who masterminded it were dead, there was no point in airing all the dirty laundry publicly. They could discipline the rest of the participants for the contraband part of the scheme and slowly trace back the illegal transfers that had occurred prior and make amends there. I was thanked for helping tip them off to that part of the scheme they didn't even know about and basically that was the end of my involvement."

"So, who's after you then?" Danny spoke up quietly amazed at what he had just heard and further impressed at the things Martin knew and never spoke about.

"Thomas and Julia Sayers had a son, Allen. He idolized his father. The outpouring of grief and sympathy for Allen was amazing. Everyone knew that Allen and his father were very close had great love and respect for each other."

Danny winced a bit at the almost bitter tone in Martin's voice.

"Allen was certain the death of his parents was no accident that someone had murdered them. He vowed to never stop looking for their killer. He even contacted me a couple of times over the years to question me about what I knew of the inmates in the jail. I never told him anything. Allen was kept out of the loop of his parents' illegal activities. No one wanted to hurt him either since he was the pride and joy of his parents. They had doted upon him and were proud of him no matter what he did. Most just wanted and hoped that he would move past his grief and continue on in his life.

My bet is that Allen wouldn't let it go. He was – is smart, resourceful and tenacious. If I'm right, he's figured out what his father and mother were up to and he's figured out that I'm the one that tipped IAB off to the activity.

James is the key; he was Thomas Sayerss' right hand man at Collins. He ultimately did get transferred to Shawangunk and served his sentence there. The pieces fit. Allen's parents were killed by a train. My parents were killed by an 18-wheeler. Shook was murdered by someone strangling him; I was attacked and almost strangled. You want to know how David Mears was killed in that prison riot -- he was shot by a sniper – one bullet in the heart. Guards ended up firing on the prisoners to stop the riot. They were supposed to be using rubber bullets; someone in the tower had live ammo. Like I said, it was put down as a tragic accident."

Martin sat down spent after having told such a lengthy history. The rest of the team sat quietly absorbing what they heard.

"So Allen Sawyers realized his parents weren't the icons of the community everyone thought they were, and he's probably concluded that they committed suicide together. So now he's after you?" Sam spoke quietly trying to piece together the motivation.

"And he's trying to make you suffer and he's –"Danny stopped as his brain wrapped itself around Martin's earlier revelation that someone had followed him to an NA meeting and sent pictures to his father. Now, he understood who had sent Victor the pictures and why. He felt his anger rise inside and when his eyes met Martin's he saw the same anger, hurt and realization reflected there. They nodded silently not wishing to divulge that information to all present.

"All right. We know the who and we know the why. We need to find Sawyers and James fast. Danny, I want you and Martin to stay here. You both need the rest and there's a detail outside as well. The rest of us are going back to the office and get a BOLO out on Sawyers and James." Jack rose along with Sam, Elena and Vivian. Each in turn gave Martin a quick hug with Jack waiting until they were done before stopping by Martin and resting his hand briefly on his shoulder in reassurance.

"We'll find him."

"I know. When you do, I'm in. No arguments Jack, I help you bring him in."

Jack just nodded and as he turned to leave he caught Danny's eye. Danny winked back at him assuring Jack he had Martin under control. Jack waited another moment and then followed the three women out of the house.

"So, Home Sweet Home. I'm taking the room with the bathroom."

"Fine with me glamour boy. I'm just happy with a hot shower." Martin grabbed his bag and headed upstairs hoping the hot water would take the remaining chill out of his body. He wasn't sure what chilled him more, the morning's plunge into the icy water or the knowledge that he was the cause of the death of his parents.

TBC…

(Author's note: Remember everyone, this is a work of fiction. I know of nothing in this above chapter that has ever happened in the State of New York DOCS or any other part of the penal system. So, don't come after me thinking I've breached a confidence and for goodness sake, don't suggest anyone try it either!  )

Laurel


	8. Chapter 8

(Disclaimers go to Prologue, please.)

**Chapter 8:**

Missing Person's Office:

"Cell phone records on Sayers show him making phone calls from a variety of places in the city. They don't narrow down our search. Also, his credit card has no activity in the last three months and he took a sizeable withdrawal from his bank account at the same time his credit card went off line."

"How sizeable?"

"Hmm -- how about $20,000." Vivian looked at Jack as he whistled appraisingly at the figure.

"That will keep him in hotel rooms and rental cars for awhile."

"And impossible to trace, I'm going to check with Sam and make sure all the law enforcement agencies have his picture."

"Great. How's Elena doing on James' information?"

"You can ask her yourself, she's headed this way." Vivian stepped back from Jack's office door to allow Elena to enter.

"Jack, NYPD just contacted me. They found Antwon James. He's dead, one bullet to the head. His body was left in a car outside of Martin's apartment building."

"He's playing with us. He knows we're on to him and he's playing with us. Elena, contact Danny on the secure line. Make sure he knows about James and that he doesn't let Martin out of his sight."

"All right." Elena turned and left the office leaving Vivian staring at Jack who shook his head in frustration.

"He's like a ghost, Viv. He comes and goes at will, but he makes damn sure his messages get through."

"Yeah, and he wants us to know it's him."

Jack just nodded and went back to looking at the files on his desk. He had several files open, one was Martin's service file, one was the homicide investigation into his parents' deaths and others scattered around were the various reports and updates on Noah Shook, Antwon James, Brian Schuford, Thomas and Julia Sayers and Allen Sayers. What disturbed Jack deeply was that all but two of the files were about people who were dead. The remaining two files contained information on the individual responsible for most of the deaths and the other file was the killer's final target. Jack was damn certain Allen Sayers wasn't going to be responsible Martin's death. He just wasn't sure how.

FBI Safehouse:

Danny returned downstairs after a steaming hot shower and a change of clothes. Dressed in a pair of jeans, sneakers, and sweatshirt he felt comfortable and warm after his icy morning swim. The comforting weight of his service pistol at his waist was a constant reminder that despite the casualness of his attire, he was on the job.

Entering the main room he saw Martin sitting in a recliner chair holding a mug of coffee in one hand and a pack of ice over his chest with the other. Smelling the wonderful aroma of fresh coffee he retreated to the kitchen, poured himself a mug and then returned to the main room and grabbed a seat on the couch.

"Does the ice help any?"

"A little. I took a couple aspirin back at my apartment. They're helping as well."

Danny just nodded allowing silence to settle over them again.

"The doctor prescribed something a bit stronger."

Danny only nodded watching Martin carefully. Martin's eyes focused in on his and he grinned wryly.

"I gave the prescription to Sam to get rid of it."

Danny gave a small grin and nodded back at Martin. Both men remained silent again each quietly assessing their thoughts.

"I'm not embarrassed that he found out I'm in therapy, not the way I thought I would be."

Danny looked over at Martin who was staring unseeingly as he spoke. "I think I gave up a long time ago trying to please my father. Amazing how someone that frustrates you and hurts you can make you doubt yourself. With my father it wasn't so much that things had to be done his way, it was more that he let you know you were inept or incapable if you did things in a way that was different from what he approved of. I don't know. I don't know what I'm saying."

Danny paused for a minute as he gathered his thoughts. He'd let go of his misperceptions of Martin's charmed upbringing years ago and come to realized that families that broke apart of families that stayed together each carried their own painful burdens and he shouldn't judge another's burdens against his own.

"I think I understand though. To this day all I can think about is that Poppy shouldn't have had to die the way he did. I stopped blaming myself for it at some point, not even sure when that was, but all the guilt I carried for so long has colored the way I remember him. If he were to walk through the door right now, I'm not sure I could even be angry for the pain he caused Rafie and ultimately me."

"Yeah, it's strange. I grew up with a father who was home, not all the time, his work took him away for many days at a time, but he always came home. I have no reason to believe he was every unfaithful to my mother, he provided a nice living, paid for my education, never hit me yet, for all that I've been pretty angry for a number of years because I'm a product of who he made me.

I once told Sam that my parents saw the world in a particular way, if I was interested in something that was outside of that vision, my father made sure I knew that it was frivolous, or stupid, or somehow made me less in his eyes because that's what interested me. I got so good at hiding what I liked or disliked from him. It got so that when we talked we were great as long as he had something to say because I became very good at expressing interest in whatever he was interested in. In those times we were fine, but it was so shallow."

"I thought things were beginning to get a little better after you got shot. Your father was really on a tear that day." 

"Yeah, I know, and for a short time it almost seemed like some of the barriers were going to come down, but you know what," Danny tilted his head slightly as encouragement to Martin to keep going and, after a short pause, Martin continued, "I began to pull back. I got so angry at him for waiting 35 years plus before he decides to have a fatherly relationship with me. I got so angry that if he had just been a little bit more like an interested father instead of a tyrant that perhaps I wouldn't have so many barriers inside of me. For a while it was just too easy and too much fun to blame him."

"You said 'for a while' what changed?"

"NA changed, you and Sam stepping in and pummeling me over the head and not taking no for an answer. My sponsor changed things by showing me how I could open up. That night at NA when I shared my story changed. All those pieces came together and I realized that I could continue to be angry with him and thus remain hollow inside, or I could decide that the past was the past and that it no longer matters what my father thought or did or anything and I could be me and go forward. Maybe that means that I am slow to trust and share, maybe that's how it's always going to be, well, so what.

I also decided that I would try to make the best relationship with my father possible that I was comfortable with. He was never going to be the doting father, that's not who he was and, if I was honest with myself, I didn't want or need that anymore that time was long gone. But we could be civil and even genuinely interested in what the other was doing and we had begun to reach that point. Of course, that's when the photos got sent to him of me attending NA and everything fell apart."

"Do you think it was Sayers who took the pictures?"

"It could have been him, more than likely it was just someone he gave some bucks to to follow me and snap the photos. He knew enough to know that sending those to my father would burn any bridges we had built and then he could start his little game."

"You said Allen Sayers and his father were real close?" Danny broached this subject gently. Despite Martin's statements that he had accepted that he and his father were never going to be close he knew that it had to be a sensitive topic. He knew it was within himself.

"Yeah. Interesting how this whole game of Allen's has been unfolding. He's deliberately acting out his little play almost in parallels…each action is mirrored by another action earlier." Martin stopped and looked at Danny who was nodding at him it.

"You're right, they aren't mirror images exactly but they do reflect some past action even if in a distorted way."

"Exactly. His parents killed themselves to avoid humiliation. He kills my parents. Similar reflections but distorted."

"And his parents were dishonest while yours weren't. Martin, that's why the photos, he was close to his parents while you weren't. He was embarrassed to discover their dishonesty so he decided…"

"To display mine. Even though my parents and I weren't close, he wanted…no, I think he needed to display my faults to them in order to satisfy his own humiliation. The difference is I'm not ashamed, not anymore. It's a part of me and I draw strength from it."

Both men stopped talking as Danny's cell phone started ringing. Martin watched as Danny checked the ID and then greeted Elena. Martin listened intently as Danny locked eyes with him and responded in short clipped words before disconnecting the call.

"Let me guess…they found Antwon James."

"That's right. He's eliminated all his partners. You know what I don't get, Martin?"

Martin looked over at Danny as he spoke. "Sayers is pretty smart and seems to have this all worked out, so he would have to know that once he sent the flowers, whether we knew it was him or not, you'd be put into protective custody."

"I know that's what I've been thinking about as well. He had to have known that after this morning we'd be able to put the pieces together and figure out it was him."

"He really wasn't hiding it. After all, each of the people he used to perpetrate this plan had ties back to his father and mother and you. You were the only person who tipped off the corrections authorities to the illegal prisoner transfer that ultimately led to his parents' death. Everything he did was a signal, even how he killed his so-called partners."

"Yeah, which means he would have had a plan for this as well. We're not going to be able to find him. He's managed to move about at will, follow me, set us up to be witnesses and even participants in the murder of one of his helpers, Brian Schuford, while he takes a shot at me. Everything is planned."

Danny leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his forehead wrinkled slightly with concentration. "He's planned for everything, even you going into protective custody. We don't need to find him; we only have to go to where he's going to be, but where is that?"

"I think I know where he's planning for it to be."

"Where?" Danny couldn't keep the note of shock out of his voice.

"Washington, D.C. The Bureau has a special meeting planned in two days in honor of my father's memory. They're going to be honoring him posthumously for his years of service. I'm expected to be there to accept on his behalf and to speak briefly. That's where Allen Sayers is going to finish what he started. We don't need to look for him now. He's not here anymore. He'll meet us in Washington."

Danny stared at Martin and turned over his partner's words in his head, sifting and sorting through them. After more than five minutes of rearranging the pieces, Danny gave up Martin was right. They needed to go to DC.

TBC…


	9. Chapter 9

(Disclaimers go to Prologue, please.)

**CHAPTER 9:**

"No, no way."

"Jack – " 

"Martin, no. This guy has been calling all the shots thus far, and he's successfully made every move he's wanted to. There's no way we're just going to hand you to him." 

"But that's the part of the plan that works in our favor, Jack. This time we know exactly where he's going to be. This time we can be ready."

Jack rubbed at his eyes while he collected his thoughts. His team was spread out at the safe house having come there after Danny's call telling them that he and Martin had figured out Sayers' next move. Opening his eyes he looked first to Vivian, the calmest and steadiest member of his team. She stared straight back into his eyes. He'd seen that expression of resignation and resolve in her eyes before. He knew without having to ask her for her opinion that she agreed with Martin and Danny on what needed to be done even though she didn't like the plan.

Sighing he looked again at Martin who met his gaze unflinchingly.

"All right, Martin, so we go to DC and attend the meeting in honor of your father. Do you actually think I'm going to put you up on the podium to speak? You'd be a perfect target for him, and don't even try to tell me that you'll be okay with a vest on. Oh, yes, you'll be wearing a vest, but Sayers will expect that. He knew last time you were wearing a vest and took the chest shot simply because he wanted to. He'll take the head shot this time for certain, and we don't have anything to protect you against that."

"I'm not saying there isn't risk, Jack, and yes, he'll be prepared for the vest, and he's good enough to take the kill shot, what I'm saying is that we'll own the territory because this time we know he'll be there. Also, the attendees at this meeting are already prearranged by the Director, so it will be easy to know who is who and where they are.

I'll have Danny with me at all times, and you can keep me in a room to the side, I don't even have to sit out in the main hall." This was something Martin was secretly only too happy to concede. While he wanted his father's work to be honored, he had no wish to be spotlighted as the grieving lone survivor after the murder of his parents. He would be only too happy to sit quietly in another room and watch the proceedings via closed circuit television.

"I know you're right, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. All right. We leave first thing in the morning, we drive down as a team without notifying anyone and I'll book us at the hotel quietly."

"I have a better idea." Martin spoke quietly. "We should stay at my parents' house. That way we don't announce our presence by using any credit card or risk being seen anywhere. Also, it's got security cameras, gates and it's an easy drive from there to headquarters. There's plenty of room and…no one is there."

Jack nodded and watched Sam as she gently squeezed Martin's arm in comfort.

"All right. Everyone except Danny, Martin and I go home tonight, clear your calendars quietly for the next couple of days. I'll let Van Doren know what's going on and tomorrow we leave for DC. We can set up at Martin's parents' place and head to the FBI headquarters the day after. Van Doren will coordinate so that we have all the protection we need while there and route all information on Sayers that comes in to the Fitzgerald house."

**The Fitzgerald Residence:**

Martin finished putting the rest of the plates and silverware in the dishwasher. The rest of the team were scattered around the expansive residence. Jack had made himself a pseudo office in the den area that also housed an extensive collection of books on everything from history to biographies to poems and various works of literature. Danny and Sam were talking quietly in the living room while Elena sat near them on her phone talking to Sophie. Vivian sat in the kitchen area nursing a cup of tea and quietly watching Martin move about the kitchen tidying up from the evening's dinner.

The team had left New York around 11:00 that morning and made the relatively quick trip to DC. Not wanting to alert too many people to their arrival, they drove directly to Martin's parents' home stopping only long enough to pick up some things for breakfast the next day and pick up something quick for dinner that evening. Fortunately the grocery store they stopped at had precooked chickens and a variety of side dishes to choose from so a simple dinner of chicken, fresh salad, hot Italian bread was selected.

Upon arriving at the house, Martin keyed in the access code to the gate at the entrance, and they drove through locking the gate behind them. Entering the house they all noted the slightly musty smell of stale air. Martin had been down there several days earlier sorting through some personal papers along with his uncle and cousins but no one had been there since. Vivian and Elena opened a couple of window to allow some fresh air in but not long enough to chill the house. Late February in DC was certainly warmer than NYC but the furnace still activated periodically to heat the interior.

The team spread out and selected rooms for sleeping. Martin told everyone to take whatever room they wanted and tried to encourage Jack to sleep in the master bedroom. Jack couldn't bring himself to do it and in the end he and Danny made themselves comfortable in the den with its pullout bed and additional couch for sleeping while Elena and Sam shared a guest room that had twin beds. Vivian chose another guest room and Martin took his old room.

If Martin seemed uncomfortable at letting his teammates see so intimately into his personal life he didn't show it. Instead he remained quiet preferring to show them where they could find towels, glasses for water, thermostats, encourage them to browse a book or turn on a TV or radio and then would withdraw to his father's office to look through some papers on his father's estate.

His colleagues for their part – once they got past the luxuriant setting they were in – puttered around the house peeking at a picture on the wall or skimming through some pages in a book. They had spent the better part of the car ride down discussing their plan for the next day and all seemed to sense in the other a need to take a break from the stress of the next 24 hours and try to relax in unfamiliar surroundings.

Vivian just sat quietly watching Martin wipe down the sink, clean up the counter, start the dishwasher, set up coffee for the morning. While he kept himself occupied with busywork she thought through her conversation earlier that day with Danny and Sam...

"_You know, Viv, I can see why Martin is a bit proper all the time, or at least usually," Danny amended as Vivian cocked an eyebrow at him. "You know what I mean, He keeps himself closed off. Well, no wonder, I mean look at this place."_

_Danny looked around the formal living room he and Vivian were standing in. _

"_I know what you mean, there's a lot of nice stuff in here."_

"_Yeah, there is, and Martin doesn't show any interest in any of it. He doesn't even want any of it, and who can blame him. The stuff is nice, but the house is cold. And don't say turn up the thermostat, Viv, you know what I'm talking about."_

"_Yeah, his parents liked nice things, but you're right. It's cold."_

"_He once told me that his parents saw things in a very specific way."_

_Vivian and Danny turned as Sam spoke up as she walked into the room._

"_I never asked him to elaborate on that but…I think being here, seeing where he grew up I understand. He isn't comfortable here, and I don't think it's because he thinks we'll judge him. I don't think he was ever comfortable here."_

"_And that's a shame. Home should be comfortable, safe and happy."_

_Danny looked at Sam who quickly looked away. Neither of them had had safe and happy homes. Jack hadn't either. Vivian and Elena did everything in their power to make sure their children had safe, loving homes filled with as much love and joy as possible. _

_None of them thought Martin felt sorry for himself or thought he was the only one with a less than ideal childhood, however, none of them had the rest of the team seeing all the details of his growing up. _

"_I'm going to talk to him. Martin is so good at covering his feelings that he's not going to say anything about it to any of us. So I'm going to talk to him. And don't think I don't see the relieved expressions on both of your faces either." Vivian scowled at Danny and Sam as they both guiltily turned and looked at each other, then she smiled and just shook her head in resignation. "Why I always have to be the grown up I'll never know_."

Vivian stopped her reflections on the earlier conversation and decided it was time to speak up as she watched Martin begin to clean the counter for the third time. "Martin, sit down before you wear a hole in the countertop." She watched as he turned and grinned at her slowly. He knew she had been patiently waiting for him to run out of idle work. He didn't know why it was but Vivian was the one of all of them, even Sam, that he could share his hardest and most painful thoughts.

"You know, Viv, it's strange being here with all of you. I thought…I could have kicked myself yesterday for mentioning that we stay here out of view from everyone. I mean, the words were out of my mouth before I knew it and then…there was Jack agreeing."

Vivian smiled as Martin stopped speaking. He looked at her, caught her smiling at him knowingly and chuckled softly.

"The whole car ride down here I kept thinking, what a mistake, everyone is going to be so uncomfortable. Yet, there's Sam and Danny fighting over the remote and the sports channel, Elena's settled in talking to Sophie, Jack's found some books to read and…"

"And you and I are here talking."

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments until Vivian spoke up again.

"Have you decided what you're going to do with the house and everything in here?"

Martin smiled a small smile before he spoke, "Uncle Roger and my cousins were down here with me the weekend prior. We went through and selected some things – well they did. I told them to put a little note on anything they wanted in particular. It's going to take some time before the estate is settled, especially now that…well, you know, now that it's a murder investigation."

Vivian gently squeezed Martin's forearm in comfort.

"To be honest, Viv, there isn't anything here that I want. Actually, this house feels the warmest and most comfortable with all of you here then it ever did when I lived here. You know, I look at Jack, whose mom killed herself and Danny with his parents dying when he was so young and living in foster home after foster home, Sam doesn't share much but it's not that big of a secret that she's not close to her mom and she never talks about her dad.

Sometimes I feel ashamed that…here I had two parents who never hurt me physically, sure they traveled a lot and left me behind but what a great place they left me at and such wonderful people. Aunt Bonnie was more like a mother to me than my own mom, and I was so fortunate to have her in my life and my cousins…we're close and easy with each other. I didn't have to worry about where I would live next week or next month. I didn't have to worry if the people taking care of me did it because they wanted to or were assigned to do it and got paid.

I had a roof…more than a roof. I had lots of clothes, good school, no debt from that education and what a gift that was and is…sometimes I'm ashamed but the truth is I didn't have a happy childhood. I know my parents loved me but it was cold. This house was cold. Everything always had a proper place. Friends could come over for dinner as long as it was known ahead of time, and I mean days ahead of time. Do you know how often friends wanted to come over to my house for dinner?"

Vivian shook her head silently.

"Never. No one ever wanted to come over here. I was welcome at their house but no one ever wanted to come over here. I don't think I realized how stifling it was until I left. Each time I got sent to my aunt and uncle's to stay I looked forward to it so much. It got to the point where I didn't want to come home.

I'm not making a lot of sense."

"No, Martin, I think I do understand. I love it when Reggie has friends over whether it's for dinner or just to study. Some people are good at making a house a home, making it comfy and welcoming. Some people aren't."

"I know. And I feel bad for thinking that my mom failed somehow. She didn't, you know, she was who she was. She was smart and ambitious in her own way. She was tough in a fight if the fight was something she believed in. I guess she just didn't know how to show she cared. She decorated this house, made sure everything was in its rightful place, but it was always cold."

"And you feel that somehow you're dishonoring your mother because you think these thoughts?"

Martin nodded afraid his voice would give away the depth of his emotions.

"Martin, I'll tell you this much, as a mother I wonder every day if I'm doing right by Reggie. I work long hours; I'm exhausted when I come home. I manage to find the energy to spend some time with him whether it's on homework or just listening to him talk about his day, but I never make it to sports practice, I rarely see any of his home games much less away. He gets teased by his friends that his girlfriends won't have to pass the "dad" test, they'll have to pass the "mom" test and not just any "mom" test but the "mom as FBI agent who carries a gun test".

I lay awake some nights wondering if what I do is right and as much as I love him and can't imagine my life without him, I wonder if I did the right thing by being a mother when I wasn't willing to make that first and foremost in my life.

I guess what I'm trying to say is don't be too hard on your mother because she wasn't what you needed or perhaps wanted and don't be too hard on yourself because you wish that there could have been more warmth when you were younger. We're all just human. We all do the best we can do at any given moment in time.

Be thankful that your mom knew enough – because I don't think it's an accident that your Aunt Bonnie and Uncle Roger were the people chosen to care for you when your parents were away – she knew enough to put warm, down to earth, emotionally giving people in your life and allow you the time you needed to form strong bonds with them. Be thankful also that your mom gave you an example of a strong, driven, intelligent woman but also balanced that with a strong, intelligent, nurturing woman."

Martin smiled at Vivian. Trust her to always find the heart of the matter and give him a gentle lesson at the same time as she comforted him.

"And let yourself feel the pain and the loss. It's okay to grieve. I know you've tried very hard to keep the emotions in check. It's part of the job, hide your emotions, be strong for those we're trying to help. But there's going to come a time when you need to grieve. Let yourself do it." 

With that Vivian squeezed his arm again and then got up, rinsed her tea mug and, glancing mischievously at Martin, left it in the sink.

**Morning: FBI Headquarters, Washington DC:**

Martin sat nervously fiddling with his tie and shirt collar in a small room off of the main conference hall. He and the rest of the team had arrived at the FBI headquarters early that morning and were quickly and quietly escorted in through a special entrance keeping them away from the main corridors, inquiring eyes and potentially loose lips.

The team had drunk coffee and eaten bagels on the ride over that morning. All looked tired but their bodies and minds were alive, sharp and aware of everything and everyone around them.

Jack had been assured by the Director of the FBI himself that every agent who would be present was accounted for and that there would be no way anyone would get inside that building. On the remote chance that someone did bypass every security protocol, picture ID mechanism and security camera, they would never get past the agents who had worked closely with Victor Fitzgerald and who had vowed that they would give their own lives before allowing Victor's one and only son's life to be taken by the very deviant who had killed the father.

No, the director assured Jack, every measure had been taken and everyone was aware of the stakes. Martin was safest in the concrete fortress of the FBI Headquarters. Despite the assurances Jack couldn't shake the chill that swept through him without warning every so often, nothing was absolute, nothing. Well, he mused darkly, death was absolute.

"Jack, relax. Obsessing over it isn't going to change it."

"Yeah, well, just because reality is as reality is doesn't mean I have to like it."

Sam just shook her head and turned to pacing around the conference hall stopping periodically as she saw a familiar face. Across the room Elena and Vivian could be seen mingling amongst the agents and invited guests.

Jack looked at his watch again and, seeing that it was less than 15 minutes before the start of the gathering he cracked the door behind him and poked his head inside. Danny and Martin looked up from where they sat as they waited for the meeting to begin.

"Danny, got a moment?"

"Sure, Jack." Danny got up, rested his hand lightly on Martin's shoulder and gave him a little shove of brotherly affection as he exited the room. Martin watched him go momentarily relieved to be by himself.

Jack closed the door after Danny joined him outside in the main conference room.

"The director sent word that everyone has checked out so far and the only agents allowed weapons in this room are our team and a team handpicked by him. No one else in the room is carrying. Elena went and got some special FBI pins for the agents who have weapons so we can all identify each other, here's yours."

Danny looked at the pin that Jack placed in his hand. It was the typical FBI souvenir pin usually handed out on tours to kids or special groups, the only difference he could see was that a small black ribbon was attached to it, because the pin was gold and the ribbon black, the contrast stood out well against the various suits and jackets worn by the armed agents. Danny scanned the room and easily identified the 6 additional agents to his team who were armed.

"Do you have one for Martin?"

"Of course, here, you can explain it to him when you go back in. How's he doing?"

"You know Martin. Calm, cool and clammy," Danny grinned briefly at Jack and then his tone took on a more serious note, "So far there's been nothing. Martin's cell phone is on, it works fine and yet, there's been no message or anything from this guy. Martin said he'd called a couple times and left taunting messages but for the last couple of days it's been nothing, zilch, pure silence."

"Yeah, I think I liked it better when the creep was sending messages, except for the part that those messages usually came on the heels of an attack or the death of someone."

Danny nodded silently in agreement, for the next several minutes the two men stood side by side quietly scanning the room and trying to anticipate Sayers' next move. When Jack saw the director and his entourage enter the room he turned to Danny.

"Why don't you head back in, give Martin his pin and wait with him until it's time."

"You got it."

Danny turned, opened the door a crack and slipped inside closing it behind him. Jack went back to scanning the crowd and watching the director's slow progress to the podium as he greeted agents and guests alike. Hardly ten seconds had passed by when the door behind Jack was opened quickly. Turning around Jack took in the wide eyes and intense look Danny gave him. Quickly Jack turned from the conference room and entered the small side room looking for Martin. The room was empty.

"What the hell? Where is he!"

"I don't know, Jack, I came in and the room was empty. I went to the hall door and asked the agent on the other side where Martin was. He indicated that Martin had gone to the men's room right across from him. We looked inside. All we found was this."

Danny placed Martin's cell phone in Jack's palm. It was open and the text message was frighteningly clear.

"Come to men's room or I'll detonate the bomb in the main conference room. Sayers"

"Dammit!"

TBC…


	10. Chapter 10

(Disclaimers go to Prologue, please.)

**CHAPTER 10:**

Jack ran across the room, out into the hall and entered the men's room where Martin was last seen. The room was empty.

"I watched Agent Fitzgerald walk into the men's room. No one else has gone in or out of that room the whole time I've been on guard. Those were express orders from the director."

"And he never came back out?" Danny couldn't help the sharp tone to his voice. How the hell had Martin disappeared out of the FBI Headquarters?

"Danny, look at this."

Jack pointed to a hole in the wall in the stall next to the exterior wall. The grate that had previously covered it was lying on the floor. Next to it was Martin's badge.

Jack squatted down and poked his head in the opening.

"It's an emergency slide. Actually it's used to vent air from construction jobs but in a pinch, it can be used to slide down to escape. He had Martin go out this way. I bet he had a work truck down there and presto, he's away."

"We've been having work done." The agent who had been guarding the corridor door spoke up. "Actually, maintenance is always doing something. So nobody thinks anything of it. Everyone on the facility crew here has clearance and any contractors have to have background screens before they're allowed onsite."

"Yeah, but once that's done, nobody would think anything of a truck coming in and working would they?" Danny couldn't believe it; how could they have been so stupid?

**FBI Headquarters: Director's Office**

"Bomb dogs went through the room and found nothing. We've check all the main hazard areas, boilers, maintenance shafts everything. We've got dogs detailed to all the floors but nothing came through any entrance that wasn't checked. The roof and all ventilation shafts are secure. There's no bomb here. It was a ruse to get Fitzgerald to leave."

"Yeah, and it worked." Jack turned away from the Director of the FBI.

"This Sayers knew that Martin would put the safety of everyone in the room – the building for that matter before his own. That's why he sent the text message. He knew Martin would come to him." Vivian sighed.

"All right, isn't this the second time Sayers has used a fake bomb as a ruse to get Martin where he wanted him?" Danny spoke up quickly. His mind had been turning over his conversation with Martin about how Sayers had a plan for every move they made to ensure he got Martin right where he wanted him. Without waiting for anyone's answer he continued.

"Listen, Brian Schuford went into that warehouse claiming he had a bomb that he was going to blow up, only there wasn't any bomb."

"Exactly, it was to make certain Martin got down to the warehouse because Sayers knew we were assigned his Missing Persons case." Elena spoke up taking the thread from Danny.

"Right and when he had Martin down at the warehouse he shot him in the chest. I did some checking up on David Mears, the prisoner that was falsely transferred for Antwon James, Martin said he was killed at Shawangunk in a riot. When the guards opened fire they were supposed to have rubber bullets, only problem is that whoever shot Mears was firing live ammo, one shot straight to his heart. He died instantly." Sam had been shocked when she learned that piece of information.

"Right, and, Jack, didn't you say that Noah Shook was strangled in the motel he was hiding out in, just like how Martin was attacked in his apartment." The words poured from Danny's mouth as fast as his mind formed them. They were onto something he knew it.

"It's almost as if everything is a mirror image of something else." Vivian stopped for a moment and thought, "No, more like a distortion of the real image."

"Exactly, Viv," Danny spoke up again. "Look, Sayers' parents committed suicide so he kills Martin's parents. Then he attacks Martin in his apartment to shake him up or warn him or toy with him, whatever and then he kills Shook in the same manner as he attacked Martin. We've got twos of everything."

"Yeah, two bombs, two shots to the chest, two strangling, two sets of dead parents, so what's his plan with Martin and where?"

"Oh, my God," Everyone turned to look at Sam. "I know how he's going to kill Martin, and I know where."

**Fitzgerald Residence**:

"It ends right here, Fitzgerald. I win." Sayers grinned maniacally as he waved the gun in Martin's face.

"How do you figure that you've won?" Martin stared Sayers in the eyes. With his hands zip tied behind him he had little thought of grabbing the gun but he knew the longer he kept Sayers talking the more chance he had to find a way out.

He reminded himself that this was his choice to be here right now. He could have gone back and warned the guard but he wasn't sure how far off the track Sayers really was. If Martin had gone back to warn the others, would that have caused Sayers to set off the bomb? Martin wasn't sure there even was a bomb but he wasn't taking any chances either. This man had already killed his parents and three other people to get to him; he wasn't going to give him any more opportunities to harm anyone else.

He'd been surprised and even found himself admiring the ingenuity Sayers displayed in devising that escape. When he got to the men's room there was an out of order sign on the stall closest to the exterior wall. Figuring that was where he was supposed to look Martin had pushed open the stall door, seen the grate resting on the floor and peered inside. When he saw the vinyl coated flexible tunnel that would allow him to slide down to the ground he knew what was going to happen next. The little note pinned inside wasn't necessary but it drove the point home.

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT CALLING FOR HELP. I'M MONITORING THE ROOM NOISE. CLIMB IN, BRING THE NOTE, ENJOY THE RIDE"

Angry but determined no one else would be harmed, Martin complied. The ride had been quick, uncomfortable, and more than slightly terrifying and when he reached the bottom he was unceremoniously dumped into a construction dumpster filled with cardboard boxes. After catching his breath for a moment, he tried to disentangle himself from the vinyl tubing and the boxes when above the noise he heard a low voice give an order and felt the pressure of a gun muzzle at his spine. Stopping completely he waited while the objects entangling him were moved away and then he felt a sharp pain as the gun handle connected sharply with his skull sending him into oblivion.

He didn't remember anything until Sayers stopped the truck and roughly shook him to consciousness demanding the access code. After demanding the code he had warned Martin that if the code was wrong and it did anything other than open the gate and disarm the alarms he would shoot him in the stomach so he would slowly and painfully die and, while Martin was suffering, Sayers would lay in wait and kill as many of his would be rescuers that came to his assistance. Reluctantly Martin complied, gave the code and quickly and quietly Sayers drove up the drive and dragged Martin inside the home of his late parents.

"The great Fitzgerald name will go out with a sputter. It'll look like your parents killed themselves in humiliation over your drug addiction. They'll be labeled as cowards, cowards who raised an addict." 

"You mean they'll be labeled as cowards because your parents were labeled as cowards?" Martin spoke the words evenly and in a low tone.

"Shut up! Shut up! My parents were great people, good people! They loved me! Your parents didn't love you!"

"You're right; your parents did love you. They were probably good parents to you. However, I don't know how great they were."

"How dare you! They were great! If you hadn't killed them…it's your fault! And what's your great claim – huh? You're a druggie, an addict, made daddy proud didn't you!"

Sayers practically spit the words in Martin's face. Martin stood his ground even though his head throbbed, and he felt like the floor was pitching beneath him. He kept his eyes focused on Sayers as the other man paced back and forth waving the gun around, his eyes darting from Martin to the floor, from the floor to the gun in his hand and back at Martin again.

Martin barely had time to brace himself as he saw Sayers' intent. Even though he had a brief moment to prepare himself it didn't soften the blow as the gun impacted with his jaw. He'd been able to roll a bit with it, but it still knocked him hard against the wall. He staggered a bit unable to use his hands to brace himself. Leaning momentarily against the wall he struggled to clear his head and stop the roaring that had begun in his ears earlier and know was thundering throughout his skull.

Martin tasted the blood in his mouth and his eyes glimpsed a faint smear of it on the wall that he was leaning against. Gathering his strength he steadied himself and stood up again and turned to face Sayers.

"The difference between us, Sayers, is that I gave up trying to impress my father a long time ago. Your parents have been dead a long time and you're still trying to impress them. You're trying to impress a mother and father who are responsible for the death of at least one person, abused their positions, lied, cheated, allowed money to be their guiding force and enabled corruption rather than disabling it as they had sworn to do and then chose the cowardly path after they were discovered and killed themselves.

Do you really think they were thinking of you when they drove their car in front of that train? Do you think they were thinking of how much they loved you, how much you meant to them? Huh? Or were they thinking about escaping the mess they had created.

That's it, isn't it? I'm right. They left you to face the mess they created. They didn't love you. They ran out on you. They made this hell and then, when it was falling down around them, they ran out and left you to face it. You've lived with the mess they created, the shame, and what did that make you? You're a murderer. You call them great, loving parents well, I guess you're honoring them by the example they set. You've become a murderer just like they were!" Despite the blurring of his vision and the continued hammering in his head Martin found himself yelling at Sayers.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I'm ending this now. There's letters here, right here." Sayers patted his jacket pocket. "After I kill you, I'm going to leave them right beside your body. It'll look like you killed yourself from the shame. You left the ceremony for your father, too ashamed to stand up there and accept the award for his work because you knew how unworthy you are, and you knew that it was because of you that he was dead. So, you left, came here and started tearing the place apart," to illustrate his words Sayers swept his arm across the desk causing everything on it to crash and fall to the floor.

"Then, you found these," Triumphantly Sayers pulled out the folded, wrinkled sheets of paper. "These are written on your daddy's letterhead, letters to you telling you how ashamed he was, how he couldn't forgive you for disgracing the family, his only child, his only son. Your actions had caused him and your mother too much pain, they weren't able to live with what you've done and they were going to end it. So you found these notes, realized they killed themselves and so you took a gun to your head and pulled the trigger like this."

Sayers stepped up to Martin and just as he was about to raise the gun to Martin's head and pull the trigger he felt the pressure of a gun barrel to his back and Jack's voice whispered in his ear.

"Drop it."

For a moment it looked as if Sayers was going to go through with his intent as he kept his gun trained on Martin, then his gaze flicked to the side and he dropped his arm slightly. Danny materialized at his side and wrenched the gun from him and rapidly cuffed him. Glancing briefly at Martin Danny led Sayers from the room.

Jack stepped forward and steadied Martin by grabbing him by the arm.

"You're a mess, here, sit down. I'll find something to undo these ties." Guiding Martin to a nearby chair he pulled open one of the desk draws, finding a pair of scissors inside he snipped the tie wraps. Martin immediately began flexing his hands and alternately rubbing his wrists to ease the ache and restore proper circulation. Jack disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a handful of ice cubes wrapped in a towel. Handing that to Martin to put on his bloody and battered jaw, Jack pulled out his cell phone to summon an EMS squad.

Sam appeared and grabbed the ice filled towel from Martin and held it to the back of his head instead. She could see a small trail of blood down the back of his neck and gently placed the ice where she could feel the swelling.

"How did you guys find me?" Martin was grateful that Sam was steadying him on one side as Jack sat across from him on the little table and steadied him from the front. Martin wasn't sure he wouldn't tip over completely if they weren't there to help him.

"After we figured out the bomb threat was nothing more than a ruse to get you out of the building, Danny realized that there had been duplicates of just about everything that Sayers had done."

"Including shooting Antwon James in the head and leaving him outside your apartment building." Sam kept the ice on Martin's head as he turned slightly to look at her. "We realized that that was the only action that hadn't been duplicated. You hadn't been shot in the head and your parents' home would be the alternative to your apartment. He telegraphed his plan to us when he killed James."

"You were right, we didn't have to figure out what Sayers was up to, we just had to wait for him to tell us."

"Only one problem with your theory," Martin said quietly as he felt himself succumbing to the beckoning darkness.

"What's that?"

"Brian Schuford was shot in the head by the SWAT sharpshooter."

Jack and Sam looked at each other in shock. They had counted the bomb at the warehouse with Schuford but not the method of his death. Neither wanted to dwell on the what ifs. They had been right, that was what mattered. Jack looked at Martin who was swaying a bit and watched as his eyes rolled back in his head. Catching his agent he eased him back to the couch for the paramedics to take care of. As he heard the sirens announcing the arrival of the medical personnel he shook his head and looked down at his unconscious agent.

"You're welcome."

**Two days later:**

Martin stood silently by the plaques his parents had chosen for their memorials. He didn't know how long he stood there. He wasn't aware of time passing or the headache that was reemerging as the morning's aspirin was wearing off. After a while he became aware of a tremendous fatigue and he moved to a stone bench that was nearby and sat down.

He didn't register the approach of the other person until he was standing right next to him. Even then Martin didn't move. Jack looked down at Martin for a minute before sitting down beside him. For the next couple of minutes the two men sat quietly until Martin broke the silence.

"I'm not sure if I'm angry or sad, if I'm to feel guilty for their deaths or what." Martin stopped and started to shake his head but then remembered how that would feel and caught himself.

"I have decided on a couple of things. My father was who he was. Maybe things were as they were supposed to be in the end with us not talking…I don't know. I do know that I like who I am right now. It's taken me a long time to stop resenting his interference and I had reached a point in the last couple of years where I no longer tried to impress him. We tried to be close after I got injured but the truth is…I didn't want to anymore.

Maybe too much water can run under the bridge so that you reach a point where you just don't want to try anymore. I know that I didn't want to try anymore. When he came up to the city to visit, I'd go and visit but, if I'm honest with myself, I really didn't try that hard because I just wasn't willing to let down my own walls that protect me and give him another chance to hurt me.

Maybe that's the cowardly way of doing it…I don't know, I do know that it helped me to start enjoying being me. I regret our last argument not because I did anything wrong, I didn't. It may sound sanctimonious, Jack, but he misjudged me my whole life and he's the one who made the mistake that day we met for lunch in New York. Our last conversation was a fight and I know in my head and in my heart that I'm not to blame for that."

"You're right, Martin. That argument wasn't your fault and you may never know if your father could have gotten over finding out about your addiction or not…" Jack gave a small smile as Martin turned and looked at him for the first time since he'd arrived. "Yeah, I knew before all that garbage came spilling out of Sayers mouth. I am an FBI agent after all."

That earned Jack a small smirk from Martin. Jack figured that was the best he was probably going to get for now but it was a step in the right direction.

"I'll tell you this, Martin, and then I'll leave you alone. Your father was wrong. You are not an embarrassment, you piss me off from time to time, but I'm proud you're on the team, and I trust you with my life. Your father was wrong."

With that Jack stood up, rested his hand briefly on Martin's shoulder and squeezed once before he slowly walked away.

Martin sat there for a long while thinking over the past couple of weeks and even over the last couple of years in his life. Eventually he stood up, wiped the tears from his eyes, and walked to stand by the memorials that signified his parents' final resting place. He rested his hand momentarily on each of the plaques engraved with his parents' names and turned and walked away.

For the first time in almost a month he felt free. As he stepped outside, he turned his face to the fading light in the sky, took a deep breath and smelled the coming of spring.

The End

Laurel

March 2007


End file.
